Remnants of Life
by Captive
Summary: Voldemort has risen to power and Hogwarts is conquered. Draco surrenders to evil and chooses life. Hermione trys to forget her tragic past only to realize it can't be escaped. Can an untainted love survive amidst such Death and Destruction? [DM&HG]
1. The Comfort You Bring

**Remnants of Life**

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Disclaimer: The Characters aren't mine, only the Plot. Characters are from the mind of J.K. Rowling.

Rating: PG-13

===Note===

Alright, I'm actually not certain if this is going to be a short story or a one shot. It'll depend on the reviews I guess. So, let me know if you like it, other wise the story ends here.

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**Chapter 1: The Comfort You Bring**  
  
The world ended when he came. Some might have described it as the age when wizarding civilization simply ceased to exist. Hermione knew it wasn't a complete destruction of the people, but of the society they had worked to create. And, it could be argued that that is just as tragic. The once lively Diagon Alley was abandoned until it was nothing more than a ghost town. Whole communities migrated to safety, or at least what they thought was safety. Eventually however, they found that such a thing existed no longer.  
  
Hogwarts had always been considered the safe haven. The castle which had once seemed so majestic was practically falling to ruin. It was the one place on earth that she assumed would remain stable. It housed the one opponent Voldemort dared not face. But safety, like childhood, passed too soon and the sanctuary was robbed of its innocence. She realized now that there was to be no shelter from this hellish storm.  
  
Hermione too, had lost her naïve nature and found it replaced by a solemn acceptance of what was to come. There would be no gentle return to the past. The only option was to move forward with the knowledge that there could be no true victor in this war. She realized over time that the same acceptance was adopted by every other student in the school.  
  
She looked around her now at the sea of faces. Each one reflected some trace of hope which she knew would eventually diminish and die along with their lives as they knew it. They were all trapped together in this nightmare from which no one could awake. They were children dragged kicking and screaming toward the inevitable.  
  
The school had gathered in the Great Hall that evening at the request of the Headmaster. Though they had no true idea of the reason for this, they all felt a slow dread creep up and chill their hearts. There was no good news to be delivered these days.  
  
In an effort to calm them, Hermione set her features in a grim smile. They would all draw their much needed strength from her. As Head Girl, she was obligated to reassure the students that all was well. In the depths of her mind however, she knew nothing could be further from the truth.  
  
She chanced a glance to her right and found her eyes locked to with the blonde haired Head boy whom she once loathed. Malfoy too, she saw, attempted an even expression. His eyes however, looked almost blank, as if he didn't really see what was before him. Hermione wondered briefly if he suffered the same inner torment as herself.  
  
The assembly sat quietly as if already in understanding that this was a sorrowful occasion. The Great Hall did not echo of their laughter and chatter that night. Instead, it hung thick with dreadful expectation. No one wanted to hear what was to be said, yet everyone listened with their breathe held and their eyes wide.  
  
The Headmaster took the podium at the front of the room. He raised his hands to draw their attention. It didn't seem to matter that all eyes were already on him long before he made the gesture.  
  
Hermione located her seat at the head of the crowd. Malfoy soon joined her. Once the head boy and head girl were settled in their rightful places, Dumbledore began speaking.  
  
"As you most likely have already heard, over the course of the last few months Voldemort has indeed risen to power once more." The Headmaster's voice was calm. It seemed more likely that he was simply discussing a new school rule instead of the future of their civilization.  
  
Murmurs from the students disrupted him. Hearing the Dark lord's name voiced out loud was not something most could stand. Dumbledore raised his hands for silence before continuing.  
  
"We know by this point that his followers have been gathered."  
  
Hermione noticed him give a meaningful glance to Harry. If she blinked, she would have missed it.  
  
"It is only a matter of time before he initiates an attack on Hogwarts. I thought it might be best that you all know. I'm uncertain how much your parents have revealed to you about how serious matters actually are, but be assured that they understand exactly what this means."  
  
No, Hermione thought, her parents certainly would not know how serious things have gotten. She had chosen to keep the matter quiet in hopes that her mum and dad could live in oblivious bliss as muggles. They wouldn't know their daughter was in danger. They wouldn't know the whole of the wizarding community was dying.  
  
"Letters have been sent to all your families. We understand perfectly if your parents would prefer to remove you from school at this time for your safety. However, please keep in mind that Hogwarts is still one of the safest places where you can reside."  
  
Hermione lowered her head and wondered whether the statement was true. She had once considered the school to be her sanctuary; somewhere she belonged. She realized quite suddenly that it was only a place like any other. It couldn't protect her from the evils of the world. It was just an empty castle that resembled something once glorious.  
  
Dumbledore finished his speech and the assembly was adjourned. Hermione stood slowly and led the Gryffindors out of the Great Hall. They walked through the dark corridors toward the common room. She wondered why she never noticed how cold and empty the halls were before. The torches lighting the way barely seemed to make a difference. She wondered bitterly at the cruel symbolism. The halls reflected their future; desolate and dark.  
  
Arriving at the portrait of the fat lady, she spoke the password and ushered the students in. Harry and Ron were last. When she didn't follow behind them, they paused.  
  
"Aren't you coming, Hermione?" Harry looked concerned. She didn't realize that her sorrow was rising to the surface. Quickly, she suppressed it and forced a smile, hoping it appeared realistic.  
  
"I'll be there in a minute. I just need to get something from the Prefect's common room."  
  
It was a lie of course, and Hermione felt slightly guilty, but she needed a moment to regain her composure. She wouldn't unburden herself on them. Harry had enough to deal with these days. On his shoulders the fate of all rested. It was unfortunate that someone so young should experience a lifetime's worth of tragedy.  
  
After bidding her good night, her two best friends left her in the dark empty corridor. She waited a moment to be certain they were actually gone, then hurried off down the gloomy hallway.  
  
The still atmosphere of the castle chilled her. Hermione shivered involuntarily and increased her pace; her steps echoing back to haunt her. The dread which had built inside her broke from her countenance. She felt a cold tear roll down her face and felt thankful that there was not another soul around to witness it.  
  
Hermione arrived at the statue which was the entrance to the Prefects common room. Hastily, she spoke the password as she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. As Head girl, she was expected to be calm. She set an example for the others, and Hermione did not wish to show the unsteady sense of hopelessness which she contained in her. There would be no one else from whom the students could draw their determination if she broke.  
  
The statue momentarily came to life and moved from her path. The entryway to the room was small and Hermione had to duck her head to step through. She found the space dimly lit and empty. A fire crackled almost merrily in the corner, but it radiated no comfort for her.  
  
Satisfied that she at last had privacy, Hermione allowed the brimming tears to fall. She lowered herself slowly onto the nearest couch and attempted to keep her sobs faint. They conquered her however, and echoed within the room. It made it seem as if her anguish was multiplied tenfold.  
  
There was no hope now, she realized. The Dark Lord had risen once more and the destruction had already begun. The papers were printing stories of murders and sightings daily now. It seemed as if an innocent family perished on a regular basis during these times. All she could do now was to wait and pray that those she cherished were not among them.  
  
When would the terror reach Hogwarts? How long before she too was trapped in the middle of this hell that had arisen? Hermione didn't want to think about the future, but found that to be impossible when it was pounding on her door. There was no escape from what was to come. The storm was brewing, and eventually they would be at the heart of it.  
  
Her sobs quieted after a moment and she contented herself with sniffing back fresh tears. What she needed now was strength. What she desired most was hope that all might still be well in the end. She shook her head and bitterly dismissed the wish as foolish. Of course all would not be fine. Nothing in fact would ever be the same again. There would be no comfort for those who had lost. It would be impossible to wipe away the cruel memories of the past.  
  
Distracted, she did not hear the statue move and admit a new person into the room. Hermione didn't become aware of the other's presence until she heard a purposeful cough. Looking up, she saw his startlingly silver eyes.  
  
She felt her face flush instantly as she tried to regain her composure. Quickly, she stood and wiped away her remaining tears with her robes. Seeing that it was impossible to hide her current condition, Hermione kept her glaze lowered to avoid risking further embarrassment.  
  
"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" Her voice was quieter than she would have liked. Hermione wished deeply that she could return to a time when snapping at him had been so simple and easy. She discovered now that bickering took too much effort. And, these days she felt as if all energy had been drained from her.  
  
"I wanted a moment to myself. Much like you it seems." He spoke in his usual leisurely way. It sparked a hint of irritation in Hermione.  
  
She slowly sat down again. "As you see, the room is occupied." She prayed he would just leave her be and allow her to be swallowed by her misery.  
  
Hermione closed her eyes to stop any further tears. When some squeezed out never the less, she ceased her efforts and choked on the sob that had been rising in her throat. More followed it and soon her vision became blurred.  
  
She thought he had left by that point, and was startled when she felt the couch sag slightly beside her. Hermione would have made an insulting remark if not her throat seemed to have closed up completely.  
  
If she had been surprised that Malfoy was sitting beside her, Hermione became beside herself when she felt his comforting arm around her. She tried to pull away, but found Malfoy restrained her.  
  
"No! Leave me!" She choked out shrilly. She didn't want to be seen like this by him. Mostly, she simply didn't want to show the weakness that had been so carefully concealed.  
  
Malfoy retained his hold however, and Hermione had no choice but to sit, still unable to regain her composure.  
  
Quietly, he pulled her close until her head was resting on his shoulder. Under normal circumstances she would have protested. But, Hermione realized that old grudges hardly matter any longer. Nothing about her past life meant a thing to her now. It was all forgotten as she stood facing a bleak future.  
  
Malfoy's presence was comforting in an unexpected way. She hid her face in his robes and bit her lip to quiet her sobs. He was a source of stability in these uncertain times. He was a representation of strength and pride. He was, Hermione realized, the reassuring security she had so long desired. And, desperately now, she wanted to cling to him seeking the security she lacked.  
  
She returned the silent embrace hesitantly, but soon found her hands clutching his robes as if they guarded her from death. Her sobs were quieting now and Hermione felt confident this time they would not return. Malfoy didn't release his hold, and she felt grateful for it.  
  
They held each other in the dimly lit room. She drew strength from him as well as warmth. His presence sparked in her the realization that she was not alone. Hermione brushed away her concerns momentarily. For what purpose would there be in dwelling in her anguish?  
  
Hermione realized quite suddenly how insignificant they were. She and Malfoy were strangely similar; nothing but two lost souls, entirely meaningless in the world. They had no hope for the future, and there was no point in looking into the past.  
  
Of this, she told him and wondered at what his reaction would be. He looked intently at her a moment before responding.  
  
"No, Granger, we aren't meaningless. We exist. And, as long as we do, he can't claim victory."  
  
She puzzled over this. What was existence after all? Couldn't it be so easily ended at the tip of Voldemort's wand?  
  
"I don't understand." Hermione said after a pause.  
  
Malfoy brushed a lock of hair from her face and gave her a grim smile in reply. "You'll come to." He said quite simply.  
  
His touch distracted her from his words. Hermione noticed his fingers linger a moment longer than they should have. It was all the invitation she needed. She tilted her face up and gently touched her lips to his. Softly, she kissed him in hopes that the harsh reality of life would be conquered momentarily while she experienced rapture.  
  
Hermione wanted a distraction which would make her forget. She wanted him to cleanse her of her pain. His kiss was tender and tasted of a sweetness that she hadn't encountered in a long while. For a brief glorious moment, it seemed as if she was rescued from her torment.  
  
But, an instant later, Hermione could almost feel herself falling back into the fiery depths of hell. Her source of comfort pulled away from her, she had mistaken his touch for tenderness.  
  
Her eyes remained closed in hopes that it would shield her from the harshness of his actions. Hermione felt him leave the couch and realized she was alone once more. She opened her eyes in time to see him abandon her with nothing but a tense glance. His retreating back brought a blush of shame to her cheeks. Her action had been thoughtless, and the result was painfully disgraceful.  
  
The sound of the statue moving back into place brought fresh tears to her eyes. The room seemed emptier than ever now.  
  
It had been a mistake on her part, she knew. She shouldn't have imagined that the boy who felt nothing could provide her with the relief she desperately needed.

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===Note===

Review Please! I'll turn it into a story if you think it has potential.

-Captive


	2. Your Presence Beside Me

**Remnants of Life**

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Disclaimer: The Characters aren't mine, only the Plot. Characters are from the mind of J.K. Rowling.

Rating: PG-13

===Note===

I think I'll continue this. I'm rather fond of the story right now, and there's different ways it could go. Anyways, keep on reviewing, I need the encouragement if I'm to finish this.

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**Chapter 2: Your Presence Beside Me**  
  
Hermione kept her silence about what had occurred between Malfoy and herself that night. What did it matter after all compared to the dread of a future dominated by evil? Her friends need not know. Any small distractions could be swept away in preparation for something much more significant.  
  
She noticed his gaze on her at times. Looking up from dinner or a corner of the library, Hermione might find the light reflected from his silver eyes like crystals. At first, the new attention had been startling and reminded her of the modification she experienced. Over time however, Hermione regarded it as simply the remnants of the tender moment they shared.  
  
They were all waiting now; holding their breathe until it could be robbed of them. Perhaps it was the silence that caused her the most pain. The air hung thick with it making the once lively castle resemble an abandoned graveyard.  
  
Life went on in the castle while they waited for the inevitable. Classes were held and homework assigned. If the school had been viewed by an outsider, no hint of anything out of the ordinary would have been discovered. However, Hermione sensed the difference rather than saw it. Their voices were hushed now when they spoke. Their eyes grew wide with fear whenever the mail arrived. Everyone was waiting for news of the outside world. In other words, they were waiting for announcements of deaths.  
  
There was another significant change. Many students had left the school at the request of their parents. Despite Dumbledore's warning, the families felt safest when together. With the much smaller number of inhabitants, the castle appeared more forsaken.  
  
Harry too had returned home. At the request of Dumbledore, her friend was sent back to the Dursleys for his own safety. He harbored their only remaining hope, and Hermione felt slightly more relieved to know he would be protected by his family's blood.  
  
Remaining behind had been her choice. Her parents were muggles after all, and Hermione hoped that they might be spared if a witch was not within the house.  
  
It seemed as if all the tension which had accumulated exploded into a river of panic when at last they received word of what they had long dreaded. Sightings of the enemy were frequently reported, and it had been gathered that they were making their way to the school.  
  
They were dining in the Great hall when the first alarm was raised. Their chatter died instantly after the doors were thrown back and Filch came charging though. He shouted at the top of his lungs notifying the entire school of what he had spotted in the horizon.  
  
"They're coming! Masses of them!" The hall was dead silent now except for the echo of his voice. Filch fell to his knees before the staff table, unable to regain his breathe.  
  
"We're all going to die." He whispered.  
  
The tension of the room broke suddenly as the students came to life once more. Hermione stood without realizing it and watched others do the same. There was panic in their once innocent eyes. Their screams pierced her and she felt as if she was drowning in a flood of torment.  
  
Students began scampering from their seats. She watched friends cling to each other. She watched children fall to their knees and cry out in fear. She became entranced with scene and stood frozen and unmoving.  
  
Their cries blended together into one deafening noise in her mind. Hermione felt as if she wasn't really there. Her eyes became blank as her soul floated up above the chaos and watched as an outsider. She hadn't known what to expect when the attack finally came, but she never dared to imagine this level of panic.  
  
Dumbledore's voice called her back to her body. Blinking, Hermione refocused her attention on the man standing before them.  
  
"Silence! Would all students please return to their common rooms. You are all to remain there until further notice." He spoke evenly as if nothing was the matter. His calm tone drew admiration from Hermione.  
  
An ocean of people moved past her toward the entryway. She became a solitary island in their mist. Hermione had yet to regain her composure. She watched their faces but didn't hear their voices. She could see right through them into their forlorn hearts, and wondered if her own emotions were so exposed.  
  
The Great hall became silent as the last students filed out. Hermione had yet to move however, and looked after their retreating backs with sorrow. What were they to do? Where were they to go when the last remaining sanctuary was no more?  
  
She didn't realize how long she stood there and flinched when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Looking up she saw his twinkling eyes behind his spectacles.  
  
"You should head back to your common room, Miss Granger. There is nothing left to be done here," said Dumbledore.  
  
Nodding, she moved at last. Hermione slipped from the table and out the doors into the dark corridor. The others had long gone, leaving her to walk back alone. For the first time, the massive castle appeared threatening to her.  
  
The night air blew in from the windows and chilled her. Hermione hugged herself as she increased her pace. The bell announcing the hour tolled and startled her. Before she knew it she was running through the halls. Her footsteps echoed back to her making it sound as if there was another person nearby. Nervous fright consumed her and caused her to imagine she was being followed.  
  
Practically sprinting, Hermione rounded a corner and collided with a solid figure in the dark. She fell backward and became tangled in her own robes. Still struggling with the heavy cloth, she looked up in panic.  
  
His eyes were unusually bright in the shadows. Hermione became entranced with the reflective orbs and stared for longer than she intended. Quickly drawing breathe, she pushed herself to her feet with effort and faced him.  
  
"You frightened me, Malfoy."  
  
He didn't respond to her comment, but surprised her with a different topic.  
  
"You shouldn't wander the halls alone anymore." He said as he gazed at her intently.  
  
It took another moment for Hermione to really hear his words.  
  
"Are you saying the castle isn't safe?" She asked hesitantly. She already knew the answer, but felt a need to hear it aloud.  
  
Malfoy gave a brief chuckle that she couldn't understand. "It never was safe, Granger. There is no such thing as safety these days."  
  
Hermione swallowed hard to keep her lips from quivering. Though she knew he spoke the truth, she didn't want to accept it as fact. It would do no good to discard the faint trance of hope she still harbored within her.  
  
When she said nothing else, Malfoy stepped to the side and began to walk past her down the hall. He brushed her shoulder as he passed and the contact gave her a fleeting impression of security. Closing her eyes, she spoke tensely.  
  
"Wait, don't leave me." Her eyes remained closed in case he should mock her. Unable to see him, Hermione felt slightly more sheltered from his cruel remarks. She heard the rustling of his robes as he turned back around to face her. In silence, she waited for his response.  
  
"What would the point be in me staying? I couldn't protect you, Granger. I'm not your precious Potter." His voice was calm but hinted of bitterness. It caused Hermione to flinch.  
  
No, he certainly wasn't Harry. Harry would look after her. He would conquer this evil miraculously and leave her safe and confident. But, Harry wasn't here at the moment, and the castle seemed emptier because of it.  
  
Hermione turned to stare him defiantly in the face. He was refusing her need for comfort once more. She had suffered brutal shame during their last encounter. She wouldn't stand for it again.  
  
"Yes, I see that now. You're nothing compared to Harry. Disregard what I said. You're right; there is no point in you remaining."  
  
That was untrue. She desperately wished he would accompany her back to the warm fire of her common room. His presence brought a sensation of safety. And, though she knew it was false, it never the less calmed her.  
  
The corner of Malfoy's mouth tugged into a smirk. He watched her with an almost bemused expression. Hermione wondered what she had done to receive this.  
  
"There's the irritating little witch I remember." He said finally, "I was beginning to think her lost."  
  
Hermione would have laughed if not the comment been laced with an insult. It was true that she was not herself these days. But then again, who was? All their past lives had decayed away along with the increasing number of bodies.  
  
"She is lost. She doesn't exist anymore." Hermione said after some consideration.  
  
Malfoy's smirk faded into curiosity. "Who are you then?" His eyes shined like glass and his gaze became intense as he stared at her in puzzlement.  
  
"No one; just another pawn soon to be removed from the game." She said quietly.  
  
Hermione watched him nod to show his understanding. They stood there together for another few moments in silence. Each watched the other in an attempt to discover a hidden meaning. Their shields were proven effective however, because neither could draw any new understanding of the other.  
  
Shaking his head, Malfoy extended an arm to indicate she go first. Hermione blinked in confusion but began to walk in the direction of her common room. She felt his reassuring presence a step behind her the entire way.  
  
Upon reaching the portrait hole, Hermione turned to him to offer a reluctant thank you. Before she could speak the words however, Malfoy hushed her with a grim smile and retreated back into the shadows of the corridor.

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===Note===

I rather like keeping Malfoy mysterious. Plus he offers enlightening pharses that get you thinking.

I like giving him depth. Makes him more charming yes?

Review please. I need the motivation. =)

-Captive


	3. The Pain You Cause

**Remnants of Life**

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Disclaimer: The Characters aren't mine, only the Plot. Characters are from the mind of J.K. Rowling.

Rating: PG-13

===Note===

Lots of Drama in this chapter. I like writing Drama and Angst. Afraid I don't do as well with Romance however. I'll work on that though.

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**Chapter 3: The Pain You Cause  
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The siege of the castle began at dawn. It was the noise outside which woke her and drew her from under the covers. Hermione heard their shouts as soon as the sun first lit up the sky, and wondered how such misery could be experienced on such glorious a morning.  
  
Seeing that most of the others were still sleeping, she crept from her dormitory toward the front of the school. The Halls were empty and flooded with sunlight. She located a window facing east and saw them. She had to squint into the sunrise to make out their shapes. The once beautiful grounds were invaded by the enemy. Their fires sent smoke drifting up and obstructed her view.  
  
There were hundreds of them; Deatheaters, Trolls, Giants. The Dark lord had gathered all the world's evil into one unconquerable army. A gasp escaped Hermione when she was at last able to make out what she was seeing through the smoke. The time had come, and there was nothing left to hope for. She took a few startled steps backwards and in an attempt to escape what she had just witnessed.  
  
"It's quite a sight isn't it?" His words were smooth and unconcerned as if he was simply making small talk.  
  
Hermione jumped at the voice, but calmed herself quickly, hoping he didn't notice. She didn't bother to turn around when she responded.  
  
"Yes, I suppose it is." She spoke with a high voice which didn't resemble her own. She hardly noticed however, distracted by the pounding in her ears.  
  
Malfoy took his place beside her at the window. Though his countenance was grim, he still appeared calm. His gaze rested on the enemy outside yet he showed no sorrow or fear. Hermione wondered how it was possible.  
  
The thudding in her head increased in pace and she realized it was her own heartbeat.  
  
"Is this how it ends?" She asked him quietly, in hopes that he would provide her with some comforting remark. He had given her the feeling of security twice before, she would have begged for him to do so again.  
  
"No, Granger. It hasn't even begun yet." Malfoy said, never taking his eyes off the sight before them. "They'll try to penetrate into the castle soon. We'll see what happens then."  
  
His voice gave the impression of practical disinterest in the situation. She wondered what drove him to be so unfeeling. She puzzled over what he could have discovered to make him fearless of death.  
  
Hermione concealed her hands to hide the trembling. If he was to show no terror, neither would she, no matter how much she dreaded the future rushing forth to meet them.  
  
His words brought her no good feeling as she had hoped, but Hermione pushed for something more never the less.  
  
"Will we fight?" She asked softly. Her eyes flickered to his face and saw that he had not moved his gaze from the window. He seemed almost entranced by the scene, as if doom sparked a fascination in him.  
  
Malfoy laughed aloud and the sound caused her to flinch. Hermione wondered in alarm at what had possibly amused him. She doubted it was something which would console her.  
  
"Will we fight you ask?" He turned to her at last and looked at her as if she was a child who he pitied. Hermione could almost feel herself shrinking in size before his intense gaze.  
  
"Who chooses to fight a losing battle?" He inquired of her. Malfoy's head tilted to the side as he waited for a response, as if genuinely puzzled by her question.  
  
Hermione wasn't sure what to say. Her mouth opened to speak but nothing left her lips. Finally, she felt a question rise in her which she did not want the answer to.  
  
"I thought you said it hasn't even begun?" She choked out. Regret flooded her immediately afterwards. Hermione didn't want to hear his response, but listened tensely never the less.  
  
"Yes, but don't you see? We've already lost this war. Your glorious hero lost it for us when he allowed the Dark Lord to return. This is the beginning of the end, love." Malfoy spoke with a bitter sarcasm which wounded her. She soon discovered however, that his words caused her more pain than his tone.  
  
"How can you blame Harry for this? What has he done to be so falsely accused?" She asked him urgently. Hermione prayed his retort would be some pathetic reason based on past grudges.  
  
"He was there that night wasn't he!? He was there when the Dark Lord returned to power. And what did he do? He failed; he failed us all." Malfoy spoke with a combination of venom and hatred. He turned from her back to the window in frustration. Hermione saw now that his calm demeanor was gone.  
  
Her own anger rose in her at his words. It was her duty to defend her friend. It had been expected of her for the past seven years. Hermione opened her mouth to argue before she even reflected on what she was to say.  
  
"How can you blame him? He was just a boy. It was a miracle that he even escaped with his own life." Hermione realized how shrill she sounded, but discovered she was beyond dignity and reason.  
  
Malfoy laughed in his cruel way once more. She hated how his voice chilled her and caused her already trembling hands to shake ever more violently. The last outburst left her gasping for breathe. She was still panting when his laughter subsided.  
  
"Yes, Potter does have a way of escaping from danger doesn't he? You need not feel any concern for him; he always manages to save himself. But what about everyone else whom he leaves behind? Tell me what happens to them!" Malfoy was shouting at her now. His voice rose with each word spoken. Hermione took several startled steps backwards, but he only advanced on her still.  
  
He finished and looked her in the eye. She saw the fire which burned in them die an instant later, his calm façade erected back in place. He too was panting now, his chest visibly rose and fell. Hermione wondered what had caused him to break. What had she said to invite such a violent reaction?  
  
"He's just a boy." She said quietly. Her statement was met with a brief chuckle.  
  
"It's not particularly comforting to know our fate rests with a _boy_ now is it?" Malfoy looked at her with something close to amusement. His eyes almost danced as he taunted her with what she wouldn't accept as true. Hermione wished desperately that she could just run away and leave him with his insane notions, but his words captured her and held her prisoner.  
  
"And where is this boy now?" Malfoy continued, "He's protected at home I believe, while we wait here for death."  
  
A tear escaped Hermione when she heard this. Her vision soon became blurred with more until Malfoy faded from sight altogether. She sunk to the ground and hugged her knees seeking comfort. No, she refused to accept his words held any potential for truth.  
  
She heard his footsteps echo as he came toward her. Wiping the tears from her face, Hermione looked up and saw him standing over her with a pitying expression. To her surprise, Malfoy offered a hand to help her up. She brushed it away with effort. She no longer desired his consolation.  
  
Sighing at her refusal, he lowered himself to the ground beside her. Kneeling, Malfoy moved the hand she was using to cover her face and spoke to her quite calmly.  
  
"Forget what I said, Granger. There's no use in placing blame now."  
  
Hermione looked for sincerity in his face but found it blank as usual. She nodded to show she accepted this as the only form of apology he would provide. There would be no point in pushing for something more.  
  
She stood with his help and returned to the window to gaze out at the enemy. "What are they waiting for?" She asked him.  
  
"A favorable time to strike, I suppose." He continued after Hermione favored him with a curious look. "It's daylight now so it's unlikely they would sneak into the castle by any means. The main doors are charmed, so it's doubtful they can move past them without extensive effort. It's possible they are simply waiting for nightfall, or a new plan to be conceived."  
  
Hermione didn't respond, but felt her chest tighten with dread. She realized that the rest of the day would be spent in fear.  
  
"And what will you do when they come?" She asked slowly.  
  
Malfoy frowned as he considered his answer. "Save what I can."  
  
He looked to her intently causing her to wonder at the meaning behind his words. His eyes were bright and seductive in an unintentional way. Hermione felt herself drowning in their smothering radiance and couldn't find words to say.  
  
"I see," she finally uttered, her gaze unblinking.  
  
Quickly, she shook her head and broke the connection. An instant later, her fears returned in full force and dragged her back into her torment.  
  
Hermione didn't speak as she left him standing by the window. Hurriedly she walked down the corridor to seek a source of comfort that wasn't so perplexing.

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===Note===

Ouch, Harry doesn't come off too well in this chapter now does he? Ah well, you know who the real hero in this story is. Review please!

-Captive


	4. Save Me in the End

**Remnants of Life**

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Disclaimer: The Characters aren't mine, only the Plot. Characters are from the mind of J.K. Rowling.

Rating: PG-13

===Note===

Hm, a lot happening in this chapter. I'm rather angst driven right now cause I was watching The ButterFly Effect, and well that movie scared the hell out of me. Anyways, read and review please.

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**Chapter 4: Save Me in the End**

Hermione discovered soon enough that Malfoy's words had been indeed correct. As soon as night descended on the castle, the noises outside ceased. Their fires, which had burned all day, were diminished also, shielding them from onlookers in the school.

Had she been naïve, Hermione would have hoped the silence was a favorable sign. But hope caused her more harm than good these days, and the idea was dismissed before it was actually examined.

It dawned on her as soon as the eerie quiet settled on the castle, that the enemy was most likely doing exactly what Malfoy had predicted. They were using the darkness as a weapon. Under its sheltered wing, the grotesque creatures would seek a convenient way into the castle. The thought caused Hermione to shudder.

The structure itself was one of their only remaining defenses now, she realized. Its stone walls protected them from the surrounding evil. She wondered at their other defense, and what the Headmaster was doing to prepare for the attack.

The students still had not been allowed to leave their common rooms. And, disregarding the brief moment she had spent at the window that morning, Hermione had obeyed the order passively.

She didn't know what was expected of them when the dreaded time came. She wasn't even sure if they were to fight at all. It was doubtful however that Dumbledore should surrender without resistance. The man was aging, and his strength failing, but his spirit remained the same. Hermione just hoped it alone was enough to conquer this.

There were few remaining in the common room now. Many of the Gryffindors had been removed from school by their families. Hermione sat alone by the fire which had once been a lively meeting place. The flames danced merrily reminding her of better times when her deepest concern was nearing exams.

Nothing was left of the past, she realized, there was only a hateful future of destruction. It was all the result of man's greed and desperate desire for power. It was the same story which had retold itself time and time again long before her birth.

Hermione hadn't moved from her place beside the fire since her return to the common room. Some time in the late afternoon she had fallen into a troubled sleep only to be woken by a hysterical scream within the castle.

The sound blended from reality into her nightmare until she couldn't quite tell if she was in a conscious state. Swiftly, Hermione stirred from her seat when the scream was followed by several more. She realized then that the room was too chilly to be a figment of her imagination.

She ran to the entry way of the common room and pushed open the portrait blocking the way. The sounds heard instantly magnified and made her cease her breathing. Screams echoed through the corridors and caused her limbs to become numb. They were accompanied by running footsteps which seemed to vibrate the very stones of the castle.

Hermione knew without contemplation that they were within the school now and taking their time as they wandered the halls searching for victims. The cries of the innocent brought her to her knees on the cold hard floor, but she felt it not. There would be no one left in the end, Hermione realized as the tears trailed down her face and crashed on the stone silently.

Others were beside her now, but she stayed quite still as they brushed past her into the hall. Panicked, no one knew which way to run. Hermione watched silently as some hurried off to the right while others the left.

The hall she knelt in became empty and forlorn in the dark as they left her. The activity had not yet reached her level, and with sudden swiftness Hermione pushed herself to her feet and crept out into the open. Despite the danger outside, she knew it would be worse to be cornered in the common room.

She paused briefly to listen to the clamor as it drew nearer before turning and running in the opposite direction. Her eyes had yet to adjust to the dim lighting and she stumbled along the way. In her haste, Hermione's foot caught on the edge of a rug and she crashed to the ground with a grunt. Stinging pain instantly spread from her knees until she lay panting for breathe.

Panic rose in her then when the sounds of devastation reached her ears from a much closer location, and hurriedly she staggered to her feet. She turned in time to see blinding light round the corner and she shielded her eyes with an arm.

"Granger!" Hermione heard her name and removed her obstruction to see Malfoy running toward her with his wand tip lighted. He was followed by a small group of students a few paces behind him.

Ignoring her pain and blurred vision, Hermione allowed relief to flood through her system at the sight. Though there were few, she felt a slight trace of hope rise at the fact that there were at least some survivors.

"Granger! Don't stand there like an idiot!" Malfoy grabbed her arm as he passed and pulled her into motion. Hermione soon began panting in her efforts of keeping up with his pace. The portraits flew by them and urged them on in shrill voices. Malfoy's wand provided the necessary light and she saw that the hall they were running through was desolate and lacked windows.

"Where are we to go!?" She managed to choke out in between breathes. He was most likely leading them into a dead end. "There's no way out of the castle!"

Malfoy jerked her arm to increase her speed and gave her a frustrated look. "Just keep moving, Granger. There's nothing behind us but death." Hermione's breathe ran out and she couldn't have responded even if she knew what to say.

The footsteps of their small group seemed almost deafening in cold corridor. They were accompanied by those of their pursuers. Screams reached her ears and drained strength from her countenance. She felt cold terror stab at her heart almost causing her to halt her steps. Fear captured her mind and took her away from her body. Faintly, Hermione was aware that they were still in motion, yet she couldn't feel the solid stones beneath her feet.

Upon reaching the end of the hallway, Hermione was snatched from her hellish fantasies when Malfoy abruptly pulled her to the right and up a spiraling set of stairs. That's when the first curse hit.

The scream which emitted from the victim caused her to look back. If she had known what she would see however, Hermione probably would have refused to turn her head.

A young girl lay sprawled with her cheek against the floor. Her eyes were open but they lacked the light of life. Hermione drew in a shuddering breathe and didn't even realize that she no longer was running. Never before had she witnessed death. And, to see it clouding someone so young left her in a state of shock more powerful than her fear.

Another curse hit the wall beside her and wrenched her from the spell she was under. Malfoy yelled something unintelligible and seized her wrist to brag her up the steps by force. Hermione complied without resistance but her eyes lingered on the still form until it was blocked from sight by the stone wall.

Distinctly, she recognized the spiraling staircase as one she had climbed many times before. They were heading up to the astronomy tower, the tallest in the castle. Had she not been in such a bewildered state of panic, Hermione would have argued that this was disadvantageous place to flee. There was no other entrance to the tower besides the one they were currently nearing. In other words, they would be cornered and executed without ever having a chance of escape.

She opened her mouth to notify their leader of this, but found her words drowned by further blasts from wand tips behind them. She heard herself scream and covered her head with her arms. Another thud reached her ears but Hermione didn't dare turn her head to see who had fallen.

With her vision shielded by her own limbs, Hermione misjudged the next step and collapsed on the stairway. Her leg collided with a hard edge and she felt herself slide back down a few steps.

He grabbed hold of her before she was able to tumble down the rest of the way. With Malfoy supporting her, Hermione managed to steady herself. She hadn't even caught her breathe yet when he began to half carried, half dragged her the remainder of the way.

They reached the wooden door of the room panting and with fewer people than before. Hermione felt an unknown Hufflepuff student grasp her robes for security. The group huddled together at the top of the stairs fumbling with their wands, unsure what to do next.

Hitting her wand against the door handle, Hermione opened the lock with a charm and felt herself being pushed forward into the room by those behind her. She fell to the ground and felt others follow suit. She looked up through her tangled mass of hair to see Malfoy slam the door shut behind them and relock the door.

Hermione pulled herself out of the tangled pile of limbs. The others too were scrambling to their feet. She swept her eyes over them and realized they were at least three short of they original number. Some of the students were so young, hardly past their third year. She realized they must have had the same terror stricken appearance as herself. Their robes hung ruffled and streaks of tears stained their faces.

Feeling a sob escape her, Hermione slowly backed up toward the wall opposite the door. She bumped into Malfoy and turned to see him standing frozen with his eyes on the entryway.

"The door won't hold them." She began quietly.

"I know." He replied almost calmly.

Hermione clutched onto his arm in an attempt to steady herself. Her legs weakened and she wondered how she had any strength remaining at all.

Instead of supporting her, Malfoy slowly sank towards the ground. Hermione had no energy to resist and copied his action. They lowered themselves onto their knees, their eyes never leaving the doorway.

Hermione's breathes came in small gasps and she noticed her hands tighten their hold. Malfoy didn't seem to be bothered by the crushing grip however, because his attention was solely focused on where the enemy would emerge in possibly mere minutes.

With her eyes still staring unblinkingly at the entryway, Hermione reached out to her old rival seeking one last shred of comfort.

"So this is the beginning of the end?" She muttered with her lips barely moving.

Malfoy placed a steady hand over hers before responding. "We haven't yet reached the end, Hermione."

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===Note===

I like cliff hangers. Well, I like writing them anyway. Stay tuned for more. And, review please.

-Captive


	5. What Will You Sacrifice?

**Remnants of Life**

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Disclaimer: The Characters aren't mine, only the Plot. Characters are from the mind of J.K. Rowling.

Rating: PG-13

===Note===

I like writing angst. There' something calming about it. Then again I think I've been writing in the same style too long. I want to try some humor one of these days. Maybe my next story =)

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**Chapter 5: What Will You Sacrifice?**

The door shattered like glass as the spell hit. Hermione huddled to the ground with her arms shielding her from the flying splinters. There were screams from the others but she heard nothing from the boy by her side.

Dust rose and hung heavily after the explosion. Hermione coughed violently and squinted at the entryway in an attempt to see the enemy. Their shadowy shapes were all she could make out.

Vaguely she was aware that her hand had not released its hold on Malfoy's arm. Tightly she clutched on to him as if he was the only anchor able to save her from the rapids of hell. In the depths of her mind however, Hermione knew he was as helpless as herself.

The dust cleared after a moment and looking up she saw them at last. Their cloaked forms were eerie and caused her to violently shiver. Each Deatheater had their wand raised and ready to strike. They advanced into the room cautiously as if there could still be an obstacle in the way. Hermione almost wanted to laugh at the thought that these men were threatened by mere students. What were they but hopeless after all? All the training of their previous years deserted Hermione as soon as it was actually needed. They had learned the spells, she realized, but failed to simulate the situation.

Her eyes were lowered to the ground and she watched their feet as they neared. With every nerve tensed, she focused her gaze on the settling dust and cracks in the stone, anything to avoid looking up into the eyes of her soon to be killer.

A figure stopped inches before her and Hermione flinched when she felt a wand tip lowered to her eye level. With the weapon under her chin, she had no choice but to comply when the Deatheater tilted her head upwards. She knew her eyes must have been wide and her face tear stained, but that hardly matter any longer.

The disguised evil looked at her a moment from within the darkness of his cloak. Hermione gazed back with her breathe held but could not distinguish their identity.

"Filth!" He spat at her.

Suddenly she felt a forceful blow to the side of her head. The mysterious individual smacked her with an open palm and caused her to fall sideways to the floor. Stars danced behind her eyes for a moment before leaving her with only stinging pain. Faintly she heard Malfoy let out a yell. The crash which followed wretched her from her daze and she snapped her head up in time to see her tormentor fly backwards into the wall.

Malfoy had managed to stand in that time and his wand was raised. The Deatheater's wand flew through the air before landing in his outstretched hand. Her defender stood panting for a moment, allowing his last action to sink in. Success was brief however, because an instant later the remaining cloaked figures unleashed a volley of spells.

Hermione watched from her sprawled position as Malfoy was thrown against the stone. To her amazement, he retained his consciousness as he slide slowly to the floor and landed on his hands and knees.

Hastily she wiped the tears from her eyes when she noticed the glistening blood drip from his hairline and down his face. The moonlight shone through the window and illuminated his pale skin. The dark red drop contrasted sharply in the dim lighting.

Hermione quickly lowered her head and shut her eyes tightly. She had witnessed death already this night, she couldn't see a actual murder also. She wished she had been able to close her ears too, anything to deafen the cruel sounds which would no doubt follow.

A moment passed, then another. Hermione heard nothing and wondered if time had stopped. Finally, the echo of a footstep drew her attention and she looked up despite herself.

A Deatheater stepped out from the group and advanced on Malfoy. She noticed a ghostly hand emerge from the robes and reach out in an almost comforting manner. She watched mesmerized as the hood was lowered and silver blonde hair fell down on his shoulders.

"It doesn't have to end like this, Draco." Lucius' voice was smooth, almost reassuring. Hermione knew better than to trust a serpent. There would be a cost to accepting this ill intended comfort.

Hermione forgot to exhale as she waited for Malfoy to respond. She watched him panting heavily, his head was hung and his hair fell before his eyes. He couldn't seem to speak through his halted breathes.

Lucius took another step forward and extended a hand, offering to help his son up. Malfoy glared up through his bangs. He didn't accept the assistance, but spat at his father instead. Blood was mixed with the saliva and Lucius wiped it away with disgust.

"Fool! So you choose the losing side? You choose death!?" He screamed as he raised his wand. "It is unfortunate things have to end this way."

"No!" Hermione lunched forward and attempted to snatch the weapon from his outstretched hand. She was knocked back to the ground before she could make contact however. With a gasping grunt, she fell to her knees. An instant later she felt Lucius' clammy hand grasp her throat and raise her off the stones.

"That was a mistake, my little mudblood. That was a horrid mistake." His hold tightened and Hermione choked as she gasped for breathe. Small whimpers emitted from her lips and she felt certain it was over, that she would be strangled until the end.

"Drop the witch!" Malfoy yelled as he slowly pushed himself to his feet with visible effort.

Lucius looked at his son a moment in hesitation before revealing a haunting sneer. His grip around Hermione's throat loosened and she fell to the floor with a thud. Tears blinded her vision and she lay gagging, not entirely aware of what was happening.

"What would you be willing to do to save her, my son? What would you do to save them all?" He swept an arm over the remaining survivors huddled in the corner. His disturbing smirk widened and his eyes appeared almost merry as he taunted him.

_Save what I can_, he had said. Hermione heard the words he spoke just that morning again and again in her mind. He had known something, she realized now. He had known what was to come.

_Save what I can_. He had appeared calm when he muttered those words. He didn't even seem the least bit disturbed, as if the future was insignificant.

Hermione's sobs broke and echoed within the circular tower. Her tears blurred the image before her. Never the less, she watched intently as Malfoy accepted his father's outstretched hand. Her stomach tightened in misery and she wondered if her body was simply being eaten away by the pain.

She shuddered and choked while Malfoy surrendered to his father. Hermione heard his voice and wondered at the extent of his sacrifice.

"What must I do?" He asked quietly.

A wave of controlled laughter spread through the ranks of Deatheaters. She heard their deep chuckles and decided it was the cruelest sound on earth.

"Come with us, my son. There will be a job for you." Lucius spoke smoothly, his smirk never fading from his face.

Malfoy took a tentative step forward, then another. Hermione looked up from her exhausted position and caught his eye. The reflective orbs were dimmer than before and it caused her unexplainable pain. Her vision blurred once more until he became nothing by a dark outline.

Her head continued to follow his shapeless form as he walked to the doorway, ushered along by the enemy. Hermione's eyes fixed on his retreating back and wondered at what he could possibly be doing. Didn't he realize what he was committing to? Didn't he see that he was not actually saving them but condemning himself?

This wouldn't be the end of the war. There would be many more battles and bloodshed before all were doomed. Malfoy may have spared their lives for the time being, but Hermione knew another chance would come for them to die. His move was risky, and she didn't find there to be any long term advantages.

The enemies' footsteps echoed back to her as they traveled down the spiraling stairs. Once, the sound faded, she knew they were gone.

Wincing in pain, she used her hands to push herself up. The room almost seemed to spin around her and Hermione stumbled when she took a step. She replayed the scene in her mind and wondered at the Lucius' words. _Come with us, my son. There will be a job for you._

She had been spared, they had all been, but it was at the cost of something much greater. Hermione knew the enemy too well. They would not offer such a deal unless they gained much in return. What job had Lucius referred to?

Shaking her head, Hermione attempted to banish the perplexing thoughts clouding her mind. It was then she felt another's presence beside her. She turned her head and looked down into the glistening eyes of a young second year. The boy was visibly trembling and there was no doubt that it was due to what had just occurred and not the cold.

He tugged at the sleeve of her robes and spoke with a tarnished yet innocent voice. "Is it over? Is the war lost?"

Hermione let out a bitter snort that blended into a faint chuckle. The question brought back memories of the night Malfoy comforted her. She knew there was no humor in the situation, yet she couldn't control her actions.

The boy looked frightened for a moment and stared at her reproachfully. His face silenced Hermione. Sighing deeply, she answered him with the only response which seemed to hold some meaning.

"No, it's not over. We still exist."

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===Note===

Okay, was it sad, depressing, angst driven, boring? Tell me something. I need to figure out where I'm going with this and I need your input. Besides, I end up slacking off if there's no interest.

-Captive


	6. The Echo of Your Voice

**Remnants of Life**

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Disclaimer: The Characters aren't mine, only the Plot. Characters are from the mind of J.K. Rowling.

Rating: PG-13

===Note===

More angsty goodness. This chapter was inspired by the movie _Gone With the Wind_, and you'll see why. =)

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**Chapter 6: The Echo of Your Voice**

They slept in the astronomy tower that night. It seemed pointless to Hermione to attempt to pick their way back downstairs. This is what she told the others anyways; privately she just did not wish to see how ghastly the damage actually was.

The survivors huddled together against the wall in an effort to gain some warmth and comfort. When she realized there was none to be had however, Hermione separated herself from the group and settled beside the window. She sat with her arms wrapped around her legs and rocked back and forth trying to calm her thudding heartbeat.

Once all tears were drained from her, Hermione closed her eyes and fought off the scene playing over and over in her mind. Her efforts were fruitless however, because in the void darkness she still pictured Malfoy flying backwards into the wall. She shuddered unconsciously when the memory revived itself and turned to glance at the spot he had landed. With the moonlight shining across the floor, she saw a dark drop of blood, and remembered how it trailed down his face.

_Save what I can._ His voice wouldn't stop taunting her. Hermione wondered how the statement had become a practical chant in her head.

_Save what I can._ What did he mean by those words? Nothing could be saved from this hell.

Her rocking became more forceful as his voice slowly pushed the limits of her sanity. She heard it repeating over and over until she became frantic. Hermione didn't notice how tightly she was clutching her own arms. She didn't feel the pain until she looked down and saw the red scratches her nails had made.

Quickly, she released her hold and let out a shuddering breathe. She looked over at the others to see if anyone noticed. To her relief, she saw that everyone was asleep. Hermione held her gaze for a moment, taking in the scene. They all looked so innocent in their slumber. Despite their dirty faces and scratched limbs, they resembled normal children at peace. If Hermione had not known better, she would have believed that to be true.

She turned back to the window and leaned her head against the glass. It felt cool and soothing against her skin. Closing her eyes she imagined it was his touch. She pictured his slim fingers brushing a lock of her hair from her face like he did before. The fantasy settled her nerves and transitioned her into unconsciousness.

Peace was at last achieved as she dozed off. Dreams danced in her head but were not clouded with death and destruction as she had assumed. Instead they were consumed with images of him. She saw his face clearly in her sleep and he smiled down at her to banish her sorrows. She imagined his touch bringing her relief as he held her.

The image from her dream twisted suddenly until she found herself alone in a dark corridor. She became chilled and shivered unconsciously. She heard herself cry out for help and watch tensely as he appeared again at the end of the hall. His face was ghostly pale and he offered her his hand once he was near. She reached out to take it and screamed unexpectedly. She withdrew her hand quickly when she noticed there was blood dripping from his fingertips.

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It was her own unconscious scream which woke her. Hermione's eyes were open in an instant and she panted for breathe, feeling as if she was suffocating. Quickly, she drew her arm over her face to block out the sunlight. She heard the waking murmurs of the others and squinted in their direction. She watched them yawn and untangle their limbs for a moment before turning back to inspect the room.

Pieces of wood from the shattered door littered the floor. Dust coated the stones and everyone's robes. She looked down at her own and found them torn. She wondered how her sleeve became ripped.

Sighing, Hermione pushed herself up using the windowsill for support. She picked her way over the splinters hoping she wouldn't stumble. Upon reaching the door, she heard her name called.

"Hermione? Where are you going?" The voice was hesitant. She turned to find the boy who had spoken to her the night before. She had forgotten his name.

"To see the damage." She replied before leaving the room.

Her steps were cautious as she descended the stairs. Her hand trailed along the wall to guide her down. Reaching the floor at last, she saw the castle bathed in sunlight. She would have considered it beautiful, if it wasn't for the bodies.

The first she passed was one she remembered. It was the girl from the night before. Hermione recalled how she was hit just upon reaching the stairway. There was another lying a few yards away. She didn't pause to examine it.

Walking in silence, Hermione made her way down the corridor which could hardly be considered forbidding at the moment. The dead were scarce on this level, and widespread. After seeing a few however, she began turning away whenever she neared a body.

Death hung in the air thickly and caused her head to spin. Her breathing quickened and Hermione stumbled into the wall. Resting her fragile frame against the cool stone for a moment, she attempted to calm herself.

There were no other survivors, she realized. The lower levels were most likely empty of life. Hogwarts was defeated; she only wondered how it could have happened so quickly. It was odd really; it took evil years to rise and a night to conquer. Hermione let out a strangled laugh and felt relieved that no one was around to hear it.

Her pace was steady as she made her way down toward the floor below. The progress was slow however due to the obstacles in her way. Whenever she neared a body, Hermione lowered her eyes and refused to look at all costs. At times, the dead became an obstruction and she had to press herself against the wall and edge past to avoid contact. It was difficult, but the challenge kept her mind off the devastation and her feeling sane.

The third floor appeared the same as the fourth, and Hermione had to convince herself that she had made any progress at all. Wandering down the hall, she continued her routine of avoiding bodies and pretending it wasn't real. If she squinted into the sunlight, she realized the glare blinded her from the destruction.

She stopped when her foot hit something solid. Deciding it was too hard to be human, Hermione looked down to find a stone head broken of a statue. She gazed at it in wonder for a moment before noticing the entryway behind it.

The door to the Teacher's lounge was off its hinges. The wood leaned against the wall and Hermione had to push it aside to squeeze into the narrow entrance. She hadn't seen any of her professors since the night of Dumbledore's announcement. She wondered if they were still alive.

Briefly, anger flickered behind her eyes. What had happened to the promised safety? Where were their protectors when the battle arrived? No, she thought bitterly, it wasn't even a battle; it was a slaughter.

She didn't really expect to find anyone in the room. At most, perhaps she would discover only another dead body. But there was someone there and the sight caused her to gasp.

Professor McGonagall sat still as a statue at the center of the floorspace. Her hands were clasp together in her lap and all color seemed to have been drained from her face. Her back was rigidly straight and her eyes stared blankly at the space in front of her.

Hermione wondered why the professor didn't acknowledge her presence. It frightened her slightly to see the strict, responsible woman resemble an empty vase. The hollow look in her eyes was startling, and she feared her mind was irreversibly damaged.

"Professor?" She began hesitantly. "Professor, are you all right?"

Hermione waited for a response but received nothing. She took a few tentative steps forward until she was standing directly before the shell of a woman. She tried again to find some sign of life

"Where's Professor Dumbledore?" She asked quietly, not really expecting an answer.

"Dead." McGonagall muttered under her breathe.

Hermione jumped at the voice. Startled, it took a moment before the response made sense in her mind. She felt the cold dread of the previous night rise in her chest as she accepted this new information.

"What happened?" She asked, uncertain if the answer would be more than she could bear.

There was a pause as the Professor released a shuddering breathe. Her eyes were focused not on Hermione, but on the space between them. She hardly blinked as she stared ahead at nothing.

"He tried to hold the main entryway." McGonagall gave an odd sort of chuckle before continuing. The sound chilled Hermione. "Can you imagine it? He tried to hold the door by himself." She didn't seem to be speaking to anyone in particular anymore. Her hands began shaking in her lap. "We told him it was useless. We begged him to retreat." She stopped abruptly and turned her head away toward the window.

"Professor..." Hermione wanted to shake the woman and bring her out of this disturbing state. She wanted to ask her what was the matter with her, but held her tongue. What happened to the strong witch she was familiar with?

Professor McGonagall turned her head sharply at the sound. Her gaze rose to Hermione's face and she seemed to really see her at last.

"Miss Granger." Her expression was that of surprise. "You're alive."

Hermione nodded slowly, afraid of startling the woman. She wasn't certain what was wrong with her.

"Well, Miss Granger, I'm afraid we must close the school." Her voice became business like. Her lack of emotion frightened Hermione. Some unseen damage had been inflicted on this woman. That much was obvious.

Unsure what to say, she responded in the most ordinary way she could manage. "Yes, I see. I'm sorry to hear that." Her voice came out strangled despite her efforts. She hoped it went unnoticed.

McGonagall stood suddenly and walked briskly to the doorway. She turned her head back before exiting. "I need to go contact the Ministry. You wait here."

The command seemed almost natural. If not for the detached way she was handling the situation, Hermione might have believed the woman was unaffected. The thought caused her hands to tremble. There was something the matter with her professor, and she feared it couldn't be healed by time.

Shaking her head, she wretched her gaze off the spot the woman had just vacated. Instead of following the order, Hermione poked her head out the door to see McGonagall's retreating back. Once the corridor became empty, she crept from the teachers' lounge and continued on her way down the hall.

So she was going home. Of course Hermione had known there was to be no recovery from this for Hogwarts, but she had never stopped to imagine herself returning back into the muggle world. She wondered briefly if it was possible to resume life as if nothing had occurred. Non magic folk were oblivious to the rising evil and Hermione considered forgetting the school's existence entirely. She could resettle with her family and pretend nothing was the matter. She could repress her memories and find some sort of false contentment.

Yes, she thought desperately, perhaps it was possible. Perhaps she could return to a simple life as a muggle. The idea brought her comfort and with that she smiled to herself in the deserted corridor. She would banish her past and choose a future of oblivious bliss.

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===Note===

Hint, _cough_, foreshadowing _cough._ Catch it?

Anyways, see where the ending of _Gone With the Wind_ comes into play? No worries though, this story is hardly over. Please review, I need the support to keep me writing =)

-Captive


	7. The Option I Choose

**Remnants of Life**

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Disclaimer: The Characters aren't mine, only the Plot. Characters are from the mind of J.K. Rowling.

Rating: R

===Note===

I'm upping the rating to R for... some mature content. It's not really so bad though, just extremely angst driven. I just don't want some younger kiddies to think about some of these ideas. Keep that in mind.

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**Chapter 7: The Option I Choose**

She hadn't expected it to be easy. In fact Hermione had known as soon as the idea was conjured that it would be the most painfully difficult decision she would make. This world which she had been so graciously accepted into was by this time as important to her as anything ever could be. Seven years of magical training could not simply be discarded.

In her mind the battle waged. It was not as if she had a choice, Hermione told herself. There would be no return to happiness for the wizarding community. If she became involved, she would only meet her downfall along with everyone else. If she became involved, there would be no chance that she would be spared for a second time.

Malfoy had saved her. Hermione realized and accepted it. His sacrifice wouldn't be in vain. She would live in peace in exchange for his self condemnation. She would find some sort of fulfillment in her muggle life. It wasn't as if it hadn't been accomplished before. Hermione remembered quite clearly that her childhood predating Hogwarts had been a happy one.

Her doubts swirled in her head as she sat on the windowsill in her room. No, it could hardly be considered her room any longer. It was the room of some long gone child who favored cheerful colors and piles of stuffed animals. It was the room of innocence and beauty, two qualities she felt she now lacked.

Hogwarts was officially closed the very morning she found Professor McGonagall sitting alone in the Teacher's Lounge. The woman did exactly as she said, and sent word to the Ministry. By noon, the grounds were crowded with officials seeking an account of what had happened. Hermione had hurried past and waved them away. Nothing could make her discuss the night's events. No one could force her to speak of the last crucial moments in the Astronomy tower.

The remaining survivors were collected from various parts of the castle. Hermione had been surprised to hear that there was any other life left. As she sat huddled near the entrance of the school, she strained her ears and heard the Ministry members discussing how some of the children had been spared. One group of four had hidden in the Room of Requirement. What they had required was shelter, the room complied by becoming invisible to the passing Deatheaters. Another miraculous escape had been accomplished by a few sixth years. They had charmed some seemingly useless inanimate objects to attack. The distraction created allowed them the precious moments they needed to get away.

The survivors were all returned to their homes, including Hermione. Some found upon reaching their destination however, that all that remained was a burned black frame of a structure. Those children went under the care of the Ministry. They became pitied orphans, residing in the foster homes provided by generous wizarding families.

Though she knew her family to be muggles, therefore safe from the destruction, Hermione had still breathed a sigh of relief when she arrived to see her house the same as she had left it. The welcome she received brought back a spark of cheer to her empty features. Seeing her mother and father again gave her new determination to carry out her plan. She would store away her wand and resume life afresh. Finding employment would be difficult, but not impossible. Pretending Hogwarts never existed however, was a different matter.

Hermione resided in her room these days. She found some comfort in the solitude. Days after arriving back, she realized there was something sickening in the level of arrogance in which her family lived. She knew she was being unfair. She knew they were not intentionally trying to excavate her pain, but never the less their blissful lives disturbed her. Hermione slowly began to accept the dreadful thought that there were be no content future for her.

Gazing out the window, she watched the skies for a sign. Purposefully, she had severed almost all her connections to the magical community. She didn't want to hear about the deaths anymore. She didn't want to imagine what terrors she turned her back on. But, even though it had been her choice, Hermione desperately wished for news of what was happening. And, though she knew she would dread it, she wanted to know exactly when good would surrender to evil.

She started suddenly when she realized there was movement in the sky. The faint flapping of wings reached her through the glass, and Hermione hurriedly opened the window to admit the barn owl.

The Daily Prophet had managed to stay in circulation during these times, and eagerly she continued her subscription seeing it as her only way of remaining informed.

Detaching the rolled up paper from the bird's leg, Hermione quickly spread it over her knees to learn about the world she had separated herself from. She stopped breathing when she read the headline. Feeling a sob consume her throat, she hurriedly reread the words checking for accuracy before her vision became blinded by tears. Shaking her head violently, Hermione crumpled the paper in her hands and threw it to the floor. The headline however, still danced in her mind.

_The Death of the Boy Who Lived_

She continued shaking her head as if it would allow her to banish the words. She fell from the windowsill down to her knees. Grabbing at the newspaper, she tore the pages in rapid desperate motions. The crumbled pieces floated down and littered the ground surrounding her.

Breathing heavily when finished, Hermione kneeled silently for a moment. Calmed by her rash actions, it occurred to her that she had just disassembled the only source of information which could tell her how it happened.

She leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes. Harry was dead now, there was no hope for them. Yes, she had made the right choice, Hermione tried to convince herself. She had escaped from a dying civilization. There was no need to worry for her life in this idyllic world of muggles.

The tears were silent but steady. Shedding them exhausted her. She decided at that moment to end her subscription. All her connections would then be broken. There would be no point in hearing of their world, Hermione thought as she rocked back and forth. _Their world_. She realized suddenly that she already regarded it as not her own.

==========

It was past midnight when Hermione awoke suddenly on her bedroom floor. She could not recall when she had fallen asleep, and blinked away the remainder of her exhaustion. The moonlight filtered through her blinds and she fumbled with the string to close them.

In the complete darkness which then surrounded her, she walked to the bed and sat on its edge in a half daze. She bit her lip unconsciously and did not feel the sharp pain until she drew blood. Licking away the dark drop, Hermione shuddered at its salty, metallic taste.

She lay back on the covers with her legs dangling over the edge. Her waking nightmares materialized in the blackness and taunted her. A new image had been added to her horrific collection. Her imagination had conjured Harry's death. She had no details, but knew her fantasies were gruesome enough.

She wondered if Voldemort had accomplished the task himself, or if he had sent his loyal servants. She wondered if her friend had fought, or if he simply surrendered. No, she decided, Harry would have put up a struggle, he wouldn't have begged for his life. She felt a chill spread through her veins to her core as she imagined him fighting a fruitless battle, cornered and slaughtered.

For the first time, she realized she hadn't just turned away from a world which had accepted her, but friends who loved her. The guilt was more than she could bear.

Reaching for the bottle on her nightstand, Hermione fumbled with the lid. The medication was recently prescribed to calm her nerves. Two a day kept her sane after the night Hogwarts fell. Her hands shook making the safety cap almost impossible to open. With a frustrated jerk, she managed at last to remove the lid and hastily poured all the contents into her hand.

The pills felt smooth and almost comforting in her grasp. She rattled them in her closed fist and listened to the faint noise emitted. In the dark, Hermione smiled weakly to herself. It seemed such an easy option. She could see her friend again. She could beg on her knees for Harry's forgiveness for her desertion.

Her head turned sharply to the door as she heard the shuffling of feet in the hall. She saw light fill the cracks and realized it was just a family member visiting the bathroom. Hermione sat rigidly still and listened for more. There was a muffled yawn and the click of the light switch as it was turned off once more.

Biting her lip almost painfully, she looked back down at her closed fist. Closing her eyes tightly, she opened her hand and felt the pills pour from her open palm onto the floor. They made hardly a sound as they hit the soft carpet.

No, she decided, she didn't want the easy option, she wanted the right one. Death didn't compensate for death.

Hermione stood from the bed and crossed the room. Reopening the blinds, she looked out into the glaring moonlight. Not a soul moved outside on the street. The emptiness brought her no comfort.

Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione thought she saw a shadow pass. Turning her head to see directly however, she found nothing. Frowning in confusion, she dismissed it as only her nervous imagination. Never the less, she pressed herself against the window and strained to discover what had caught her attention.

Her back was to him when he apparated into the room. The faint _pop_ reached her ears and Hermione whirled around a second later. She stopped the scream before it met the air and hastily repressed her shock.

"What are you doing here?" She spoke to the silver blonde hair which practically glowed in the darkness.

His eyes, which were lowered to the floor before, rose to hers and held the gaze intently. Malfoy swallowed noticeably and Hermione watched him clench and unclench his jaw for a moment.

When he finally spoke, his words came haltingly.

"I came...to kill you."

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===Note===

Cliff hanger again, so sorry. But I love them, and I want you all to come back and read more. =) Review please everyone, I need the motivation.

-Captive


	8. Blood on Your Hands

**Remnants of Life**

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Disclaimer: The Characters aren't mine, only the Plot. Characters are from the mind of J.K. Rowling.

Rating: R

===Note===

Yes the last cliff hanger was cruel of me. But hey, it seemed to have helped. I got more reviews anyway =) Thanks to the reviewers. You helped me complete the next chapter in one long 5 hour sitting.

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**Chapter 8: Blood on Your Hands**

Hermione didn't realize she had her breathe held until she finally exhaled in the long pause that followed his words. Goosebumps rose on her arms and she wrapped them around herself for comfort. She watched his face for humor, praying the statement was a cruel joke. She noticed his eyes dart nervously away from her for a second before returning to her face. He didn't offer further explanation for his words.

She finally responded, trying to keep her voice as even as possible. To her dismay, it came out as a stutter.

"That's...not funny." Hermione waited for him to sneer and laugh at her. She waited for him to do something to signify that it had all been in jest. Desperately, she thought back to their younger days of taunts and ill intended humor. It had irritated her beyond reason, but now she wished for it to be that way once more. She received nothing from his frozen features and realized there was to be no laughter that night.

Malfoy looked down at his own raised wand tip. Hermione followed his gaze and noticed the weapon was pointed to her heart. She clutched herself ever more tightly as if her arms could shield her from death. She was too intelligent to actually believe that to be possible however.

"It wasn't meant to be funny." He finally said slowly. His words came too late. Hermione had realized what the answer to her statement would be as soon as she had spoken.

She took a step back, then another until she was pressed against the smooth white wall. She had been an idiot, Hermione thought. She had assumed life would be carefree as a muggle, normal even, she didn't realize her past would come back to haunt her. There would be no swift detachment from the dying world. The civilization was sinking into the depths and dragging her down with it.

Quickly she tried to recall the whereabouts of her wand. She felt like scolding herself when she realized she had stowed it away. In an effort to escape from her magical history, Hermione had locked the wand in a wooden box, and then proceeded to hide the container in a dusty corner of the attic. She had intended to keep it from sight until she was ready to view it again, not entirely certain when that would be.

_Idiot, Idiot_, she thought to herself. Her eyes darted around the room looking for a weapon. Nothing came of her search. Her bedroom was a child's; filled with stuffed animals and family pictures.

Malfoy continued to stare at her with blank eyes. His feathery hair fell across his forehead, partially blocking his vision, but he didn't seem to care. She noticed his wand hand shaking. It was the unsteadiness which soothed her. She realized then that his mind was not made up, she might live yet.

He opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it again. Finally, he let out a low laugh. "It's almost funny," he said quietly, "they knew this would happen. They knew you would die anyway."

Hermione wasn't looking at him, but at the weapon he held. It practically gleamed in the dark. She never realized before how much it resembled a steel blade. She spoke to the wooden object as she waited for possible death to erupt from its tip.

"What do you mean?" She murmured. Her eyes darted to his face before returning back to his hand. She wasn't sure what to look at.

Malfoy laughed in his strangled way once more. Hermione flinched at the sound. "My father, his friends! They knew, they let you live just so I could kill you." His hand shook more violently. She watched the weapon vibrate in his grasp. She found nothing humorous in his words, yet he continued chuckling to himself. Briefly, she feared he would wake her parents down the hall. This was to be her battle, they had to remain oblivious. She prayed they were deeply asleep.

"Why are you doing this?" She asked, her eyes never leaving the wand. He wasn't evil, Hermione told herself. He had comforted her, he had saved her. What was he doing? She almost laughed herself when she realized it was the cruelest irony imaginable. He had gifted her with life only to snatch it away.

"They don't any opposition. All threats are to be eliminated. The Dark Lord fell once because of a child, he's not willing to make that mistake again." Malfoy spoke the words almost as if it was a memorized speech. Hermione realized that was what he had been told. He was simply repeating the information. The lack of emotion he showed frightened her. Is this what he had become? Just another blind servant? She finally saw the torment of his sacrifice.

She moved slightly away from the wall against which she had been pressed. Without the smooth, security it brought, Hermione felt ever more vulnerable. The room seemed colder, but she was sure it was imagined. She wondered why Malfoy wasn't moving. She decided to take a chance, if he was intent on killing her, he would have done so already.

She reached out a comforting hand and rested it on the tip of his wand. "You don't have to do this. I could help you." Hermione said in attempt to sooth him. Her voice came out shakier than she would have liked. She hoped it went unnoticed.

Malfoy stared at her hand sitting on the weapon. It rested delicately, not applying any weight to the object. Hermione watched him just breathe for a moment. The rhythm was calming. _Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale_. She got lost in the pattern. It reminded her he was still human. That he wasn't immune to kindness and fear. But then nagging reason told her he was capable of ending life. And the thought prevented her from saying anything more.

"It was my choice, you know. I had willingly gone with them." He stated it as if it was damning evidence of his own wickedness. He appeared to have accepted his fate. "I will suffer the consequences of my actions." He added in a whisper, more to himself than her.

"You didn't have a choice, Draco." Hermione hoped using his name would bring him back. She prayed it would spark some hint of humanity in his fleeting soul. She feared however he was too far gone.

He looked down to the carpeting as he shook his head. "I had a choice. You saw me choose. There's no turning back. I don't want regrets." He spoke bitterly. The strain in his voice made her feel as if he was physically attempting to suppress his own doubts and fears. She wondered if it was possible, if he could change his state of mind virtually overnight.

"I chose life. I won't look back on my choice." He finally finished with determination. His eyes rose back to hers. Hermione saw they were hardened. Their glowing luminance had died. She wanted to ask him what had happened to cause such a change, but feared provoking him.

"Anyone would have chosen life." She said simply, not sure how it would help.

Malfoy's solemn eyes lowered once more. He licked his lips and appeared to drift into a half daze. "Potter would have fought." He finally said quietly.

Hermione sucked in her breathe quickly. She hadn't expected mention of Harry. She wasn't prepared to discuss her friend. Her sudden reaction didn't go unnoticed.

He looked back to her. "So you've heard about his death." Hermione damned herself for showing her emotions so openly. She bit her lip to feel satisfying pain; anything to distract her from the sorrow.

Her throat constricted and she couldn't respond out loud. She nodded her head instead.

Malfoy continued, uncaring of how the topic distressed her. "He didn't surrender without a fight. He didn't just choose to live." He began mumbling to himself. "He didn't give in like a cowardly servant. He could have survived, had he been more willing."

His words confused her. She listened to his voice, quiet and strained, and that's when the thought first entered her head. That was when the trembling of her hands couldn't be hidden any longer.

"How do you know this?" She asked, breaking the spell he had over himself. He looked startled as he turned back to her. Malfoy took a step forward, she responded with a step back.

His eyes were pleading when he answered. "I watched him die."

Hermione took another step back, unknowing of the closeness of the wall. She hit it with a soft thud and wished she could disappear into its solid surface. The tears came streaming down her face and dropped from her chin. In the dead silence which followed his confession, she could almost swear she heard them hit the carpet.

When she said nothing, Malfoy took another step nearer. His grip on his wand loosened, and Hermione watched the weapon drop to the floor.

"I watched them kill him, Hermione. I stood by and watched him die. I did nothing!" He screamed at her as his face contorted. She wasn't sure if he was angry of sorrowful. Her heartbeat increased as she willed her parents to remain asleep. _Please, Please, Please..._she chanted in her head.

It felt vital for her to calm him. Everything possible must be done to allow her family to continue their perfect lives. Hermione quickly swallowed her own pain. It meant nothing now.

"Please, Draco. There's nothing you could have done." Her voice was desperate instead of soothing as she would have liked.

"I watched and did nothing, Hermione! There's blood on my hands!" She felt like she was suffocating. The room spun around them. Her nightmare had come back to haunt her. The image flickered in her mind, Draco, reaching out to her in the dark empty corridor. Draco, with blood dripping from his fingertips.

Her body numbed and she lost the feeling in her legs. Hermione slide to the floor and landed softly. Pulling her knees to her chest, she hugged them for support.

He approached her cautiously. Looking up, she saw his eyes were pleading. She pitied him. There was nothing threatening in his presence anymore. The wand lay untouched on the floor before her. Neither of them seemed interested in picking it up.

Malfoy slumped against the wall beside her. Copying her actions, he lowered himself to the ground. They sat side by side, both staring straight ahead. Nothing was said as Hermione attempted to calm her thudding heartbeat. The ticking of her clock seemed almost deafening. She counted off the seconds in her head.

_One minute_, she thought to herself.

She had almost counted another sixty seconds before he spoke at last, startling her out of her trance.

"Do you blame me?" He turned his head to look at her. Hermione gazed right back intently.

She considered her answer. "No."

Malfoy nodded to show he heard her. Tentatively, she rested her head against his shoulder. He didn't respond.

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===Note===

I have this bad habit of killing off Harry in my short stories. I don't know why... It's just easier to be rid of him than to discuss his feelings on a Draco/Hermione relationship. Besides, with him gone you really have to realize that Draco is the hero in my stories. And that's much better isn't it?

Anyways, review please. Give me a reason to write.

-Captive


	9. Give Comfort, Give Pain

**Remnants of Life**

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Disclaimer: The Characters aren't mine, only the Plot. Characters are from the mind of J.K. Rowling.

Rating: R

===Note===

Some angst driven romance in this chapter. Innocent stuff really since, well, I'm young and haven't dated in a while so I can't write smut. Heh. Enjoy. Review.

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**Chapter 9: Give Comfort, Give Pain**

"Would you still have gone with them if you knew what was to come?" Hermione raised her head to look him in the eye. She noticed him flinch and purposefully avoid the contact. She regretted her question. It was unkind of her to ask. After all, what right did she have to judge?

They had been sitting together on the floor for some time now. Hermione had long stopped counting the seconds. Time didn't seem to exist at all as they rested in the quiet darkness. The house felt empty of any other life. The world outside felt dead; morbid and sorrowful. She had to reassure herself that wasn't actually the case. The lack of activity was due to the hour, not the looming evil. The muggle community was peaceful. She need not fear for them, only herself.

Hermione watched him bring a hand to his eyes to wipe away the exhaustion. She could tell how tired he had become by the way his lids were lowered and the subtle gestures his features made. She wondered why she herself was so wide awake.

"Yes," he replied calmly, "I think I would have gone regardless." He refused to look at her as he spoke the words. His eyes drifted to the window. He faced the glare of the moon full on rather than meet her gaze.

Hermione glanced away from him also as she considered his answer. What had she expected him to say after all? That he would willingly choose death? She realized then that his uncontainable desire to live was what kept him sane. He had chosen life that night and sealed his fate. There was to be no regret, only the desperate need to resume living at any cost.

What frightened her was not his answer, but what she herself would have done. Had she been offered the same choice, had she been forced to accept her own death or the deaths of those around her, what would she have chosen?

"You must really think me weak." Malfoy murmured, distracting her from the waging of inner conflict. His face was still turned from hers. Hermione wished he would return her gaze and therefore signify that he knew of her presence. She felt as if she was speaking with the empty shell of a person, hollow and lacking in feeling.

"You chose life." She replied passively. Her words held no joy or pain. They purposefully revealed nothing. His actions couldn't be judged when Hermione herself didn't know what she would have done in the same situation. The thought haunted her. _Would I have chosen life?_ Self preservation came from instinct. She wondered if that was something she could have suppressed. It was ironic, she thought bitterly, just moments before she had considered ending life herself. Yet having it taken from you seemed an entirely different matter.

Malfoy gave a resentful chuckle. "Yes, and look where it got me." He shook his head in defeat. Hermione placed a hand over his in an attempt to soothe him.

"You speak as if there's nothing left. What happened to existence?" It was strange, she thought. When he first proposed the idea, she had been puzzled and unbelieving. It seemed naïve to presume existence itself could be their savior. She realized now that the statement brought her comfort. A shred of hope was preserved allowing her to believe it possible for their kind to rise once more. With that, she clung to the vague theory with a desperate sort of need.

Malfoy laughed at her again. Hermione flinched. The sound brought back memories of better years. There had been a time when his insults were of her major concerns.

"What's existence to me if this is my life now?" He demanded of her. She noticed the familiar spark in his eyes return. They glinted of silver and were beautiful in the moonlight. It was her old rival rising from the dead. He was taunting and testing her nerves just like he used to. His question was laced with the selfishness of the child Draco; the one she remembered. The thought made her smile.

Hermione ignored the questioning look she received at her suddenly changed expression. Moving forward quickly, she ceased further talk by pressing her lips against his. He was the past she had so longed to return to. He was a remnant of the years of happiness which had consumed her childhood. And with that realization, she clung to him for the life that had been snatched from her. Her kiss was forceful as she demanded he respond. Her actions were pleading. In her mind, Hermione saw herself on her knees, begging him to save her, begging for the past to be revived into a blissful future. If she willed it, perhaps her imagined hero could accomplish it all.

_If only it was possible_, reason nagged at her. She brushed it away, not wanting to listen. She had been reasonable for the majority of her life. Hermione realized now that it did her no good. Selfishly, she asked for him to wipe her slate clean; to make her forget past sorrows and believe there could be some happiness remaining.

Her hands wrapped around him and pulled him close. She listened to the shifting of his cloak. The silky fabric felt like liquid against her skin. Her fingers brushed against the soft hair at the nape of his neck. Stroking gentling, she willed him to allow her this small kindness. She didn't want to be reasonable. This would turn out differently from their last kiss, she told herself. Draco would gift her with comfort. They would provide each other with a momentary state of ignorance of the outside world. Nothing could harm them in this room, her sanctuary.

Hermione felt the pressure of his lips and realized he had agreed to help her. He had allowed himself to be her comfort and safety. A tear escaped her and rolled down her cheek. She felt it dip from her chin onto her forearm leaving a lingering cool dot.

Her hold was returned with equal force. His arms wrapped around her and she complied by providing no resistance. Their movements became desperate. More tears emerged from the corners of her eyes. It wasn't working. She couldn't push the pain away.

Imagined scenarios of how Harry died shifted at the edges of her consciousness. Hermione fought them. She used the taste of his lips as her weapon. She concentrated on their sweetness. She shut her eyes tightly to block the flow. It was a temporarily successful attempt. As much as it tore at her, she realized she needed to know. _He was there when it happened_, she thought to herself.

It couldn't be repressed. The sob rose in her throat and escaped from her mouth before she could contain it. The sound was noticed; Draco stopped.

His eyes were wide as he looked in wonder at her tears. "What's the matter?" He asked.

Hermione looked away towards the floor. She had ruined it. She had lost the battle with herself. It had seemed so simple an idea. She had been so close to what she needed most, consolation. Ignorance was bliss, and that had been all she sought. Why did she have to spoil it?

Malfoy reached out a hand and brushed away her trailing tears. She couldn't bear to look at him in this failed state. She was in pieces; a ruin of her previously brilliant self. Her hair became her curtain and cover. For once she was grateful for its bushy mess.

Hermione knew he was watching her and waiting for a response, but couldn't bring herself to provide one. What _was _the matter with her? She wanted to learn of Harry's death, yet she knew it was not something she could bear. She wanted him to tell her, yet she tried to pretend he had no part in it.

Her thoughts were in shambles and Hermione had not a clue of what she really desired.

"What's the matter?" He repeated, turning her face towards his.

Her lashes were lowered and she felt teardrops clinging to them, heavy and cold. "Tell me what happened." She asked finally, still refusing to look directly at him. Her voice was shaky and cracked. Hermione held her breathe as she waited for a response. There were doubts, and there was regret, but she needed to be told.

Malfoy drew back his hand as if it had been bitten. She heard him drop his head back against the wall in defeat. She wondered if his pain compared with hers.

He took several deep breathes. She listened with patience, wondering if he intended to answer. Perhaps she was being selfish once more. Perhaps he was trying to drown his sorrows the same as her.

Hermione sighed out loud. "Never mind, forget I asked." She struggled, trying to convince herself she didn't need to know; that it would do her more harm than good. Her fantasies pained her enough, what if the truth was worse? But just the fact that the knowledge was within grasp haunted her. A witness was sitting on her floor. How could she ignore the only chance she might have of learning how Harry died?

Hermione bit her lip to silence the rising questions. She was being selfish, she decided. Malfoy shouldn't be forced to discuss the event which tormented him. She had refused to speak to the Ministry of the night in the astronomy tower. He should be allowed the same choice.

"They wouldn't tell me where we were going." He began suddenly, startling her from her thoughts. "I knew what they intended to do though, at least part of it." Malfoy turned his head to look at her. His gaze was steady. "Of course the victim was a mystery until we arrived there."

He paused. Hermione noticed his jaw was clenched. She realized she never should have asked him to relive it.

"They were laughing; my father especially. He told me I'd enjoy this, with Potter being my old school enemy and all. I didn't realize till then who we'd been sent to kill."

Hermione broke the gaze. Her curtain of hair hid the tears she didn't want him to see. This had all been a mistake. She didn't want to hear anymore.

"We apparated in a shadowed area of the neighborhood and charmed open the backdoor." His voice became strained. Hermione shut her eyes tightly as if it would block out the words. All it did was allow her to imagine the events ever more clearly.

"There were muggles in the house. They were finished off first. My father said they didn't want any loose ends." His voice cracked. Hermione dared a glance and saw him with his eyes closed, his head leaning back against the wall.

"He was asleep when we found him. My father woke him up with the curse. I can still hear the screams."

A gasping sob escaped her and met the still air. Malfoy paused at the sound, allowing her a moment to contain herself. Hermione raised her head. Her gaze settled on the scattered pills on the floor by her bed. They looked so friendly.

"They didn't want to just kill him. They wanted to play with him first." He continued shakily. Hermione brought her hand to her mouth to silence her cries. _I asked to hear this_, she told herself repeatedly.

"So I watched them do it. I watched him screaming on the floor from the pain." His voice trailed off. He almost seemed to have forgotten she was there at all. "They urged me to join in. Their laughter... it still sounds in my head."

Hermione watched as he formed a fist; his hand clenched so tightly that his knuckles whitened.

"And then once they had their _fun_," He emphasized the word cruelly and bitterly. "They ended it. It was so quick. There was no fuss. He just... stopped moving."

The chilling pain at her core spread through her veins, numbing her senses. She couldn't feel the tears anymore as they dripped down her face. She couldn't hear Malfoy's ragged breathing beside her. The dark outlines of the pills attracted her. She longed for their smooth comfort.

Malfoy reached over and brushed away the hair in her face. Startled, Hermione turned back towards him. Captive in her trance, she had forgotten he was there. His features were empty. He had unloaded his sorrow on her. There seemed nothing left to say.

Leaning in, she kissed him softly before settling back and resting her head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her in a protective hold. She listened to his steady breathing in the dark blanket of silence.

Unable to sleep, they remained that way until daylight leaked through the blinds and bestowed upon them its warm comfort. Rubbing weariness from her eyes, Hermione realized that time had not stopped after all. It had all been imagined. Nothing protected them in her sanctuary. They were as vulnerable there as anywhere else.

"What are you going to do now?" She asked tentatively. Her eyes flickered to his wand lying on the floor. He made no motion toward it.

"Go back, I suppose." Malfoy replied simply. It seemed too empty an answer. She wanted more from him.

"And what will happen then?" Hermione couldn't ask him directly what she really needed to know. It was too blunt, too brutal. And, she wasn't sure she could accept the answer.

Slowly, she watched him push himself to his feet. The light radiated around him almost glorifying the image. He dusted off his robes, even though there was no mark to be seen. She smiled to see that his haughty demeanor had not changed. Familiarity was an expected comfort.

"I'll tell them you're dead." Malfoy turned away from her and picked up his wand. Hermione studied his actions wordlessly. "If you don't perform any magic, I doubt they will have any way of knowing the truth." His voice was practical. She wondered why he couldn't give some sign that he cared.

Taking her silence for concession, Malfoy gave a grim smirk. He pointed his wand at himself and left as suddenly as he had come. He was gone before she could blink, and Hermione found the resulting solitude to be suffocating.

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===Note=== 

It's funny how I can turn such a romantic moment into pure angst. This chapter took longer to write than the others. Editing took much longer also. Review for me please. I need some motivation to get the creativity going. Writers' block is so horrible.

Much love the the reviewers so far. I especially adore those of you who came back and review almost every chapter. =) I end up finishing chapters in single sittings because of you guys.

-Captive


	10. Suffering from Truth

**Remnants of Life**

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Disclaimer: The Characters aren't mine, only the Plot. Characters are from the mind of J.K. Rowling.

Rating: R

===Note===

Began this chapter a while ago, but I kept taking breaks. Then all the angst started to depress me, and that's when I wrote the one shot with humor. (Clarity of Words)

Anyways, read, review, inspire me to write faster. More difficult now that school's started again. But I'll try.

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**Chapter 10: Suffering from Truth**

Appearing in the damp hallway of the Riddle House, Draco swept his eyes over his surroundings with interest. Abandonment had left the once beautiful structure in ruins. The walls were dust coated and stripped of wallpaper. The floorboards were cracked and squeaked when the slightest pressure was applied.

This was the chosen meeting place of the Dark Lord's followers. It had been selected by Voldemort himself, and he was rumored to have a personal attachment to the house. The reason for this was not particularly well known. The curious however, could seek stories of the structure's history for the price of a drink down at the local pub.

In this, Draco had no interest. His manner could at best be described as _detached_. He cared not for his location or lifestyle. He barely heard the orders directed at him. The majority of his days were spent drifting through the hallways of the decayed house as a shell emptied of its contents. He was the ghost of the Deatheaters. He was the shadow which lurked near the back at their meetings. And, if it wasn't for the high regard in which Lucius was held by their master, Draco's presence might not have been noticed at all.

But, none among them could really be trusted until they had given some proof of their loyalty. That was the way of evil; look after yourself, because no one else will.

Draco himself had been given a test of the sort. He had expected it. He had prepared for it. Yet, when the victim was learned, he knew it wouldn't be done. Though Hermione Granger could not be considered a significant individual in his life, she was nevertheless a notable figure of his past. And that, unfortunately, was a memory he was not yet prepared to recall.

He wouldn't pretend his childhood had been blissful, because that was far from the truth. Life in the manor was strict; their routines rigid. He had suffered through his father's peculiar tempers and impossible demands. He had bore his mother's cold shoulder and condescending remarks. And, he had come out of it all without any permanent damage.

Hogwarts had seemed a promising escape. At the very least, the distance between the school and the manor was vastly satisfying. Draco soon realized however, that distance was hardly a barrier against his family.

Banishing his thoughts and settling for a forced acceptance of his current situation, Draco proceeded down the hallway to the room at its end. The door was ajar, and he entered without knocking as was usually required.

A cloaked figure lunged at him, slamming him back against the door. With an echoing bang, the entrance was closed and Draco struggled for breathe against the arm held to his throat.

"What took you so long?" Lucius demanded, uncaring that he was nearly strangling his son. "It was a simple assignment. And it was only a damn Mudblood for Christ's sake!" A vein throbbed in his temple as he screamed. Draco didn't notice. He was gagging violently. The crushing pressure on his windpipes was weakening him quickly. The thought danced that he might be killed by his own father. It would be cruelly ironic; expected almost.

The attack ceased as suddenly as it came. Dropping down onto his hands and knees, Draco gasped and coughed as he watched Lucius' feet before him. He wondered why the man didn't just kick him while he was helpless. It seemed the type of action his father would enjoy.

"Get up." The command was calm and deadly.

Draco strained to comply. His movements were sluggish, but after a moment he found himself on his feet and face to face with his malicious tormentor.

Lucius' eyes were pools of pure black. In the dimly lit room, his pupils could not be distinguished. But, even in their eternal darkness, Draco saw a fire of amusement dance and sway. His father took pleasure in others' pain. It mattered not that it was his own blood suffering.

"Is the witch dead?"

Not trusting himself to speak, Draco simply nodded. He kept his eyes averted and directed at the floor. A touch of paranoia convinced him that any eye contact would reveal the truth; that he had failed, and she was alive.

A sudden blow was landed on the side of his head. Dazed and blinded by light dancing before his eyes, he strained to hear what his father said next.

"Look at me when you answer," came the command. That was the only type communication father and son shared. Draco hadn't expected anything else.

He raised his head solemnly and found himself unable to focus. The man swayed and blurred before him. The force of the blow had jarred his senses.

"_Is the witch dead?_" He repeated. Lucius' voice was strained and urgent; his eyes unblinking as he searched his son for the answer he wanted. Draco didn't hesitate to give it to him.

"Yes," he said firmly, refusing to blink himself. Inability to hold a constant gaze could be considered a sign of deception. And, the consequences of deluding Lucius were endless.

Satisfied with his answer, his father smiled grimly before turning away.

"Good, you did well then." Lucius said quietly as he settled in an armchair by the fire. Malfoy found it almost amusing how the man spoke of pride but showed none.

"Rest a while. The Dark Lord will join us shortly."

The statement brought a distasteful favor to his mouth. Though he had had many personal encounters with Voldemort since the night Hogwarts fell, Draco could never suppress the feeling of revulsion experienced during each meeting.

The Dark Lord's successful return to his body had its consequences. His skin was dead white and scarred. His face resembled that of a serpents'; sharply angular and slit eyed. Draco shuddered simply imagining his master's features.

"He might question you further; be prepared for that. If he is satisfied, you will be rewarded." Lucius remarked distractedly.

That was all his life consisted of now, Draco thought bitterly, challenges and rewards. And, he realized quite suddenly that the rewards were never worth the effort.

Lowering himself into the other armchair, he mused on what he really desired; freedom, certainly, but there was more. He wanted peace. He wanted joy. And, he found his life completely lacking in both. Peace had not been experienced since the lonely nights he spent before the common room fire. Despite the emptiness of those moments, Draco had been soothed but the familiarity of it all. Joy was not something he recollected at all. There had been none in his childhood, there had certainly been none in his torturous adolescence, and now there was nothing felt other than defeat. But somehow, he had achieved an acceptance of this.

The door creaked open behind him, but Draco didn't bother to turn around. A draft blew in from the hallway and caused him to shudder involuntarily. Still, he refused to acknowledge a new presence in the room. He kept his eyes carefully adverted, stalling the inevitable confrontation which would eventually come.

"Is it done?" A low voice hissed closer than expected. Draco started, not having realized his master was looming beside his ear. Instantly, his hands grasped the armrests to sooth the rising tension in his body. Using incredible willpower, he suppressed the urge to move away.

"Yes." He breathed, keeping his eyes forward and away from the Dark Lord. His voice came out shaky; he prayed it wouldn't draw suspicion.

He was met with silence. Despite the chill of the room, a bead of sweat formed at his hairline. He didn't know what had caused the pause. And, he flatly refused to turn his head to see. Seconds ticked by, no words were spoken.

"Do you know the punishment for deceiving me?" The question was calmly spoken. Draco felt his master's breathe next to his ear. He was close, very close. A bead of sweat trailed down his face. He dared not wipe it away.

"Usually, those who betray me are killed." Voldemort continued slowly. "Is that not fair?"

Draco nodded cautiously, unable to speak.

"But, you wouldn't betray me, would you?" It was voiced not as a question, but as a statement. Another command, Draco thought bitterly.

"You realize however, that trust is not easily awarded among us." The hiss of a voice said softly. "Which is why I hope you understand that I must do this."

Bonds suddenly appeared around Draco's arms, securing him to the armchair. Thick ropes snaked across his chest and stomach and tightened painfully. He struggled for a moment but surrendered when he realized his efforts were fruitless. Panting and panicked, he finally looked in the direction of the Dark Lord.

Voldemort laughed at Draco's reaction. His silted eyes glowed coldly in the dimly lit room. They burned of the fires of hell and held the promise of the torment to come.

Chuckling softly and ignoring Draco's widened eyes, Voldemort continued. "It's difficult to truly know who is loyal to me. So, each of my followers must be tested, you see." With a ghostly pale hand, he drew a slim vile from his cloak. Draco gazed at it in horrified wonder.

"Do you know what this is?" Voldemort asked, holding up the clear container and tapping it gently.

Draco shook his head no. Though he held a faint idea, he had no desire to say it out loud. It was simpler to play dumb.

Approaching slowly until he was right before his hostage, Voldemort held the vile up for Draco to see.

"This, is Veritaserum." He enlightened Draco as he pressed the truth potion to his lips.

Draco closed his mouth tightly, flinching when the cold glass touched his skin. He hadn't expected this, but he realized now that he should have. He should have known there was no trust amid evil; he should have known that the world's enemies were also enemies of each other.

When he resisted, a wand was raised to his chin.

"Be good, and drink." Voldemort commanded through clenched teeth.

Draco's eyes flicked to the wand. Considering his options, he realized there was to be no pleasant outcome of the evening. Taking the potion would leave him vulnerable. There were secrets he didn't want revealed. Refusing could hardly be thought of as an option at all. He would take the potion, whether it was by choice or by force however, was up to him.

He opened his mouth.

The draught was chilling and burned his throat. Draco shuddered and choked, trying to repress the ill feeling rising within him. He felt the liquid consume his core and rob him of his self control. His memories blurred and danced in his head until he was unable to distinguish between them. His thoughts were erased suddenly as the potion took over his mind and soul.

"So, tell me Mr. Malfoy, is the witch dead?" Voldemort asked, once certain the magic had taken effect.

"No." The answer left Draco's mouth before he could even begin fighting it. It would have been a hopeless battle anyway, he knew. Nevertheless he felt ever weaker knowing that he didn't even get the chance.

His master's features twisted into a contorted sneer. "I assumed as much." He said triumphantly.

The words were the last Draco heard before he was blinded by light erupting from the wand tip before him. When he awoke, some time later, he was chained to the wall with iron shackles.

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===Note===

I know not much lovin' in this chapter. But I needed to set it up for the climax. You'll see soon hopefully. Must find more time to write between the extensive reading for Bio and the extensive reading for American Lit.

If you love me, then review. Aw hell, review anyway.

-Captive


	11. Imprisoned in You

**Remnants of Life**

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Disclaimer: The Characters aren't mine, only the Plot. Characters are from the mind of J.K. Rowling.

Rating: R

===Note===

Blah, it's been a while. Well, not really. Two Weeks perhaps. I agree with you reviewers. I should just forget school and write. Unfortunately, it's not possible. So, I've pretty much been trying to cram in chapters on the weekends. Which is why this took 3 sittings when I could normally finish in one. Anyways, enjoy this serving of dark angst, forgiveness, and romance. That's right. There is some actual lovin' going on.

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**Chapter 11: Imprisoned in You**

The pleasant dream world was ebbing away as Hermione slowly awoke. Desperately, she snatched and grabbed for the blurred visions which brought her peace. In vain, she fought her consciousness. Defeat washed over her as her eyes fluttered open to meet the darkness.

Not once since her return had she been able to sleep through the night. Because of this, she resorted to taking frequent naps during the day to prevent the dark circles under her eyes from becoming too visible.

This nocturnal state was unsettling. Often, she found herself sitting beside the window well past midnight while her thoughts wandered to dark images of merciless murder. She imagined Harry's death in gruesome detail. She heard his screams in her head without ever having experienced them. And, despite her feeble efforts to repress them, they always returned when the darkness descended upon her.

Those same cruel visions taunted her now as she lay beneath the sheets. They danced before her until she became unfocused and unsure of what reality really was. The fantasies somehow emerged as real, and Hermione trembled in her vain attempts to suppress them.

"The mudblood lives." A voice spoke from a dark corner of her room. Distracted by her thoughts, she had not noticed there was another in her presence. Hermione's eyes jerked open and widened in shock.

Before she could take some sort of action, the sheets flew away and her body was wretched up from the mattress.

She hung there in midair panting as she struggled against whatever charm held her in place. In the dark, she could not see the intruder, but his voice brought back chilling recollections of the night in the Astronomy tower.

Lucius twirled his wand as he toyed with her. Hermione felt the invisible force push her backwards into the wall. The impact left a dull ache in her head and her senses were temporarily impaired.

Sweat broke out on her forehead as she strained, breathe after breathe. She heard his mocking laughter and realized she was to meet the same end as Harry; a slow and torturous death. As soon as this conclusion was drawn, Hermione ceased her struggle. The heaving of her chest calmed until her breathing returned to an almost normal rate. She heard him approach but didn't bother to look. His footsteps sounded in her ears before the curse was muttered.

The pain tore through her with astonishing speed. Beginning at her heart, she felt the fire burn through her veins and tear her muscles. Her own screams pierced her ears and left a ringing sensation. It was a pain never before experienced. It was a pain she never thought possible.

Her heartbeat quickened and she believed it likely the organ would simply explode. Arching and twisting, Hermione willed death to release her. Screaming toward the heavens she cried out for peace. Certain her body was being damaged beyond repair, she ceased any feeble attempts to fight the curse. Her screams died into nothing until hardly a whimper escaped her mouth.

Cold numbness spread through her tortured muscles. The involuntary jerks of her limbs slowed and she felt as if she was collapsing within herself. Her mind had deserted her. The pain was somehow not felt. Nothing remained in the shell of her former self. She had found her release by discarding her will to live.

Her breathe slowed to that of a dying man's, and she faded into semi-consciousness. Visions from the dream world danced for her, yet she could still see her dark surroundings. She saw the movement of his robes as he approached. She heard his mumbled curses. Words formed on his lips but were lost on her. His voice seemed small; far away.

Lucius watched her in distaste. She could see the hatred in his eyes. He appeared disappointed, and Hermione realized that she had robbed him of his entertainment.

"_And then once they had their _fun_, they ended it. It was so quick. There was no fuss. He just... stopped moving."_

Malfoy's voice floated briefly through her mind. She hadn't suffered as much as Harry, her death was not as amusing to him. She had lost her will to live long before he intended to end her.

She expected death then. She knew it was inevitable regardless of what she did now. But, the curse didn't come. Hermione's eyes traveled up the creases of his cloak to meet his eyes. The cold amusement she found there almost stopped her heart.

"Perhaps you would better serve as an amusement, Mudblood." He said softly before wrenching her off the ground and onto her unstable feet. Incoherent and weak, she watched him raise his wand.

Time stopped and air rushed past her, whipping her hair and bringing tears to her eyes as they departed. The ground flew from under her and a hollow feeling settled at the pit of her stomach. When Hermione was at last able to open her swollen eyes, she realized they were no longer in her bedroom.

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Red marks appeared where the shackles held tight. Draco had strained against his restraints when he first awoke. His struggles resulted in a wretched pain in his shoulders and wrists, nothing more. Accepting defeat was difficult, but inevitable in his current situation.

His wand had been taken from him. His robes were dirtied and creased. Night dawned into day before sinking back into darkness, and still not a word came of what was to be done with him.

Draco had expected instant death. This was a surprise. If it was a pleasant one however, he couldn't decide. Why had they chosen to imprison him? His mind wandered to dark thoughts and suspicious mind games. That was what they intended, he decided. They would not be satisfied with only the kill, they never were. The wait was slowly driving him towards insanity. They knew this, and they found it amusing.

Draco laughed bitterly at the ingenious intentions behind their actions. The Dark Lord knew an individual's weakness. Those that wouldn't submit to physical pain could be ended by mental torture. And that was what was occurring now, he realized, actually finding some humorless amusement in his situation.

The door to his dungeon cell suddenly swung open with force. The wood banged against the stone wall and the resulting echo caused Draco to wince. Light flooded the previously dark room and he closed his eyes tightly to the glare.

He heard their mocking laughter sound in the cell and squinted into the brightness. A crumpled figure was thrown into the room at his feet.

The white of her nightgown glowed faintly in the dimly lit dungeon. The previously pure cloth hung tattered and spoiled around her frail frame. Her hair fell tangled across her face, blocking her features from his gaze.

The door was closed, leaving them to the darkness. He listened to her labored breathing but dared not speak. He was to be blamed for this after all. With bitterness, Draco accepted that he had miscalculated. She was now a caged victim because of what he had done. He had opened his mouth to take the potion; he had thought only of the torture he would experience if he dared to refuse. And now, here before him, she was facing the consequences of his actions.

"Hermione?" He mouthed quietly as he looked down at her still figure.

There was a pause when all he heard was her shallow breathes. His eyes adjusted to the darkness and he saw her crumpled frame lying sprawled on the floor. Her hair fanned out across the stones and her face was turned from his.

"Hermione?" He repeated hesitantly. "I'm sorry."

He received no response. Draco wished she would scream at him; curse him for his betrayal even, anything to ease the silence.

He was startled when at length, she spoke.

"I don't blame you." Hermione said softly.

She surprised him again. How was it possible that so much had changed since their childhood? How could it be that he, who had been faulted for everything during their school days, was now redeemed in her eyes?

Shaking his head, Draco realized he couldn't accept her statement. He should be blamed. He should be held responsible for his weaknesses and mistakes. He should receive her anger, not her forgiveness.

"I am to blame though, Hermione." He forced out at the expense of his precious pride.

He watched her gaze shift to his face and it took unbelievable willpower not to turn away. Her eyes were luminous and pieced into his tainted soul. He felt certain she could see his flaws and mistakes; his misery and his guilt. Everything which he hid and despised about himself surfaced for her to examine.

"It's my fault," Draco muttered, more for his own benefit than her's. For once, he had no desire to sly from responsibility. For once, he wanted her to curse him for his selfish actions. That was all his life had been built on, he realized, decisions made solely to satisfy his own needs.

"What have they done to you?" Draco asked quietly, upon examining her ragged appearance.

Hermione gave a bitter laugh as an answer. Her eyes traveled to his chained wrists and stared at them unblinkingly. Slowly she pushed herself into a sitting position. Draco noticed her wince and tremble in her efforts. He had done this, and he took full responsibility.

She tried to stand, but fell back onto her knees. This time, it was he who winced. Hermione emitted a shuddering breathe and a gasp escaped her. Wordlessly, Draco watched, unable to do anything and unwilling to look away.

Ever the determined one, Hermione crawled to the wall, uncaring of the bruises and scratches inflicted on her knees. With both hands she reached out for the rough surface. Grasping the protruding stones, she pulled herself to her feet.

It pained him to see her efforts; to hear her uncontainable whimpers. His eyes took her in as she approached him; her hands still pressed against the wall for support. Her hair hung in a tangled mass, hiding most of her features. Dirt from the dungeon floor coated her limbs and ruined nightgown.

She reached his side practically panting. Leaning heavily against the wall, she pushed her hair back and closed her eyes in an attempt to regain her breathe. Draco studied her movements and took note of her winces. He examined the circles under her eyes and the sorrowful curve of her lips. She was too young to experience such hardship. And he was too young to have caused it.

Consumed by his inspection, Draco didn't notice that her eyes had reopened. He was startled to find, upon returning to her face, that she was performing her own examination.

Her eyes glowed faintly as they traveled up the length of his arms to his chained wrists. He watched them widened at the sight of his bruises. Wordlessly, she reached for his wounds and traced the marks with a gentle finger. Draco almost smiled. Comparing his wounds to hers, it was obvious who had suffered the most. Nevertheless, here she was, concerned for him.

"What happened?" She murmured, staring unblinkingly at his restraints.

Draco let out a false laugh. "I tried to get free. Not much came of it." He forced a grim smile, as if his own failure was a source of amusement.

Hermione's gaze settled on him curiously. Her eyes appeared the picture of innocence. He was amazed that that was still possible.

"What will we do now?" She asked, never breaking contact.

"Nothing. We wait." He responded.

Nodding her head slowly, she seemed to accept this. Her arms dropped to her sides and she looked ever wearier. Leaning her trembling, unsteady body against him, Hermione closed her eyes and took in whatever comfort he could provide her.

Draco mimicked her actions. With shut lids, he focused on the warmth of her fragile frame and the softness of her hair against his neck. He memorized her scent and form. He envisioned them both, far from there; safe and at peace.

Ignoring the roughness of the stone against his back, and the icy chains restraining him, Draco felt only her. He thought about the purity she still obtained, and the hope she sheltered. But mostly, he just revered in the fact that she still believed what he had told her, that existence was enough, when he himself was now uncertain of the statement.

Sighing in exhaustion and defeat, Draco lowered his face and lightly kissed the top of her head. The action drew her attention. Hermione's eyes were suddenly turned up towards his, and with a weak smile, she claimed his lips.

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===Note====

Man, parts of this actually borders on fluffy. And I usually try so hard to avoid that. Ah well. I never did like writing fluff. Which is why you kind of have to hunt for signs of love in my stories. Take note that he apologizes, and he realizes his own selfishness. I suppose that's what "redeemed" Draco is to me. =) Anyways, please review. I'd love to know what you think.

-Captive


	12. Cleanse Me with Tears

**Remnants of Life**

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Disclaimer: The Characters aren't mine, only the Plot. Characters are from the mind of J.K. Rowling.

Rating: R

**Note**:

Oh wow, I haven't updated in a while. School has kept me rather busy. Also, I had a horrible case of writers' block for about 3 weeks. Ended up trying to start this chapter about 3 different times. Hated each beginning and began from scratch again. Eventually, I got the hang of the story again. A lot of angst in this one. Romance too though. You'll get more of a look into Draco's mind.

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**Chapter 12: Cleanse Me with Tears**

"What do you think will happen to us?"

"I don't know," he mumbled.

Shadowed in the darkest corner of the dungeon, he felt the world close in. Color itself evaded him, leaving only black in all its shades. Black was the air which hung heavy and mingled with pain. Black were the stones that made up his prison. And black were her eyes as they shined brightly up at his in the darkness. It was almost amusing how the color of death could also represent life.

And life she was, in all its tattered glory. Despite the spoiled nightgown, despite the stains on her cheeks and dark circles under her eyes, she blinded him with her brilliance until he felt almost certain she glowed.

"Why are we not dead?"

He shook his head to wretch himself from his trance before answering. "I don't know."

He really didn't. Draco had not a clue of why that wasn't so. He had expected to die long ago. He had expected it to be quick, insignificant even, but not delayed. Her existence too, proved a surprise. What fortune befell her allowing Hermione to have lived this long?

"I wish I was dead," she breathed.

Draco refused to respond. How could he console her when he himself was so desperately in need of relief? Instead, he turned his head away to gaze at the far corner of the cell; away from her and her gathering tears. But even if he didn't see her, he felt her.

Hermione's fragile form leaned against his in attempt to gain warm. He was afraid however, that he could provide little. Their prison felt colder by the minute. He wondered if their captors had intended them to freeze to death.

Tears dampened his skin. Draco realized she was sobbing on his robes.

"Everything will be fine," he lied in a flat voice. He wondered how it came out so easily.

Hermione gave a bitter laugh to show her distrust. He hadn't expected her to believe him anyway.

"Where do you think we would be if none of this had happened?" The subject was abruptly changed.

"At Hogwarts; hating each other." Draco responded carelessly.

She chuckled softly at his answer. "Yes, you're probably right. But instead, here we are, speaking almost civilly." Hermione's eyes rose to meet his. "I suppose there's always some good with bad."

It became Draco's turn to laugh. "How could the good even compare to the bad?"

His question was met with contained discomfort.

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"You should hate me." He interjected the silence when he couldn't stand it any longer. Nearly an hour had passed when all he heard was her breathing. It was comforting yet torturous. He couldn't decide which.

"What purpose would that serve?" She replied slowly.

Always an intelligent answer. Always. How could she be so fucking practical all the time?

Draco didn't know what to say. It was probably best, he decided. Unlike her, he had no reasonable sentiments to express; no brilliant revelations.

"Why do you lay all the blame upon yourself?" She inquired after a pause.

"You should know who the cause of your pain is."

"Don't do this," Hermione breathed, shaking her head and pressing her face against his robes.

Draco searched his mind for a comforting remark; some form of redemption. Nothing to that effect had emerged when the dungeon door swung open, saving him from the need to respond. His breathe caught in his throat as he instinctively shut his eyes to the invading light. They snapped open again when he heard her scream.

Pale white hands gripped her forearms as they roughly pulled her away from him. The warmth was instantly missed. Hermione struggled, kicking and scratching whatever she could reach. Her efforts were fruitless, and she received a sharp blow to the head for the inconvenience she caused.

"What are you doing!?" Draco shouted after them as she was pulled through the doorway.

The beam of light vanished as the portal was closed a second later, leaving him with only the screaming silence.

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Pain pricked her skin as her captor's grip tightened. She had managed to wretch her arm away once, and was now experiencing the consequences on her action.

Peeking through her tangled strands of hair, she examined her enemy. Like the others, he was cloaked. _Hiding behind his clothing_, Hermione thought with distaste. Cowards, they all were. Blind and unknowing of the truth; that their master had no concerns other than his own.

With a burst of energy, she freed her arm and broke away. The momentum of the pull sent her stumbling into the wall. The impact left her with a thudding ache at the back of her skull. Before she could regain her senses, she felt the wooden stick pressed to the base of her neck. It targeted the pulsing in her vein.

She cursed herself for her impulsive action.

"My, aren't we being difficult tonight?" A low voice teased. Hermione spat at him, though unable to see and uncertain of her aim. The pressure laid on the wand increased as a warning, pressing into her vein and causing mild discomfort. "I would be more obliging if I were you, Mudblood." The wooden weapon prevented her from emitting an insulting remark. Her belief that she wanted to die didn't seem to matter anymore. Not now; not when it was really possible.

She was shoved to the floor. The stones felt icy against her skin. She made no effort to stand again. There was no more remaining energy to fight. There was no more will and no more hope. But there were tears, and her vision blurred as she felt them drip down her face and crash to the ground.

Her tormentor laughed at her weakness. Hermione realized with bitterness that his intent was to break her, and he believed he had already done so. Let him think himself victorious. Pride had long since been robbed of her.

The cruel laughter continued for an eternity. It echoed within the room and vibrated in her own ears. More tears fell. More pain surfaced. She realized there was no such thing as sympathy with this enemy. There was no remorse, no guilt. They could kill without thought and torture without regret. She had already experienced it first hand.

His amusement ended abruptly as a door opened. Hermione didn't bother to look up as the new presence neared. She was surprised when her tormentor suddenly dropped to his knees beside her.

"Master," he murmured with his head bowed.

They were all slaves to one man, no matter if they showed support or opposition. He, who had mocked her just moments before, was now on the floor beside her. It almost appeared as if they were equals.

"Amusing yourself with the Mudblood, I see," the Dark Lord hissed. His voice was poisonous. His close proximity was choking her.

"Only waiting for you to arrive, Master," the Deatheater stammered.

Hermione could have laughed. He had appeared so threatening a moment ago. Yet, here he was now, pathetic, powerless, much like herself.

"You are dismissed." Voldemort commanded. Within seconds, his servant rose and retreated from the room.

"Well, my dear little Mudblood, defeated already?" He began, grasping her hair and forcing her gaze to meet his.

Hermione said nothing as she glared into his bottomless eyes. The flames of hell danced within them, taunting her, destroying her.

"Potter had put up more of a fight. Your little friend had taken longer to break. But, I suppose I should have expected this from filth like you." Voldemort released his hold on her sharply. He paced the room, his back to her.

Hermione's jaw clenched instinctively at his words. That's what she had always been to them, filth, worthless; a plaything of no value or importance except as a companion of the famous Harry Potter.

"The world will fall to me, you understand. No one is left to oppose me; not Dumbledore, not that pathetic excuse for a hero, Potter." He spat the words as if they were distasteful. "It seems I have no enemies remaining. But what about you? Are you a threat to me, my little Mudblood?"

She hated the way he spoke it like it was a pet name. She was an object to him. A possession acquired to amuse him, because the victorious are never content to not speak of their achievements.

"Are you a threat?" He repeated with a sneer. "Should I fear you?" He mocked as his mouth formed a hideous grin.

Hermione lowered her eyes to the floor and retained her silence. No answer would improve her situation. No answer would satisfy him.

His amusement died when he received no response. With a frustrated cry he raised his wand.

Familiar pain flooded her body, twisting her, killing her. She screamed above his laughter, drowning the haunting sound.

It stopped as suddenly as it had come. She was left weak and empty on the cold stone floor, gasping for breathe and praying for death.

"Tell your cell mate his punishment will come soon enough," Voldemort chuckled as two of his servants entered the room.

Hermione found herself being pulled to her feet roughly. Next thing she knew, she was being tossed unceremoniously back into the dark dungeon prison.

-------------------

She had been returned to him; though more broken and damaged than before. He wondered what they had done to her, and if there was to be any recovery at all from this. His rage grew as she sobbed. The bastards had no mercy and no humanity left. And, he knew with revulsion and sorrow that his father was among them.

Her cries pierced his ears, and his anger elevated. They had no reason to harm her. She served no purpose to them. She was innocent; so fucking pure.

Heated rage blossomed within his chest at the thought. It spread through his body, burning and delicious. Draco felt enflamed as the heat flooded his limbs. He shut his eyes tightly as it traveled up his arms, climbing swiftly. It encircled his wrists, sizzling and laced with magic.

With a click, the shackles fell open. Draco's eyes widened suddenly when he heard the iron meet the stone floor. He watched, astonished, as his unbreakable restraints melted into a silvery pool.

He sighed with relief and awe before examining the lingering marks on his wrists. The bruises were dark and ugly. Glancing up, he saw that her gaze was on him; her eyes wide as she stared intensely at his face, questioning and seeking an explanation.

"How..."

"I don't know," Draco responded, shaking his head. Forgetting his bruises, he exercised his new freedom and knelt by her fallen form.

She made an attempt to sit up, and cried out in pain. His arms encircled her, pulling her to him. She was so fragile that he feared breaking her. He hadn't noticed how thin she had become; how pale her skin was or how lovely she was despite it all.

In response to the comfort he offered, Hermione only began sobbing harder. If the tears came from relief or sorrow though, he didn't know. He clutched her tighter, sheltering her from the cold and from the world. He embraced her to ease her of the haunting memories. He caressed away the pain with gentle hands. And all the while she cried, her tears sliding down her face and onto his robes, translucent and beautiful, cleansing him as they tortured him.

* * *

**Note**: 

This chapter took quite some time to write. Didn't turn out as well as I had wanted, but not too horrible either I hope. Review for me please. Need some motivation to get over this lingering case of writers' block.

-Captive


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